A Brilliantly Baltic Christmas!
by TypewritingFangirl
Summary: It's been done. Repeatedly. But I give you... ANOTHER HETALIA CHRISTMAS FIC! (Apologies for the bad title.) ...It's the holiday season again, and Russia is hosting the international Christmas party. Of course, it's the Baltics who get lumped with the decorating, cooking, invites, cards, present wrapping... Etc etc etc :) AAGH TRYING TO PUBLISH BEFORE SCHOOL IS IMPOSSIBLE! :)
1. Chapter One: Accepting The Challenge

**_EDIT_ Because I am an idiot and didn't have time to check through properly :)**

**A BRILLIANTLY BALTIC CHRISTMAS**

It's been done. Repeatedly. But I give you... ANOTHER HETALIA CHRISTMAS FIC! (Apologies for the bad title.)

...It's the holiday season again, and Russia is hosting the international Christmas party. Of course, it's the _Baltics_ who get lumped with the decorating, cooking, invites, cards, present wrapping... Etc etc etc :)

*STARRING*

The Baltic Trio! Russia! Sealand! (because he sneaks into my fics uninvited). Many other nations (maybe)... And Santa himself? (We'll go with it).

K+, but some mild swearing (agh, B is so badass!)

Also, I use too many brackets (in case you hadn't noticed)…

**Prologue/Chapter One: Accepting The Challenge**

_December 1st, 1963. 8PMish_

**"KOLKOLKOLKOL..."**

As Russia stormed around the house - shouting, swearing and generally breaking things - the three Baltics congregated in the kitchen. They had learnt over the years that safety was in numbers when their boss was in this kind of mood.

"W-What set him off _th-this _time?" Latvia asked, sat cross-legged on the table.

"World conference this morning, remember?" Lithuania replied, offering a plate of foreign biscuits to the others. "The other nations always wind him up, especially Mr America. He smuggled these back though..."

"Ooh, g-gingerbread!" the smallest Baltic smiled slightly as he took a tentative nibble. "Ch-Christmas at Pr-Prussia's always tasted like this..."

"Hey, what's the plan for Christmas this year, Esty?"

Estonia looked up from his newspaper. "I think it might be the Boss's turn. Hence the mood."

As Estonia said that (assuming correctly, as usual), Russia stormed into the room. In an instant, Latvia was hiding under the table in a small shaky heap.

"Are you all right, M-Mr R-Russia? Why don't you sit down, and I'll get you some n-nice vod-"

"Lithuania? You must help me, da?" Russia crashed down in a chair. "America has challenged me. He bets I can't beat his Christmas party from last year... But he is going to look very funny when I crush him into dust, won't he, my Baltics?"

Estonia and Lithuania nodded earnestly. Unfortunately Latvia, who felt shielded somewhat under the table, felt the need to pipe up: "But I th-thought your boss d-doesn't let you celebrate Christmas..."

"Latvia!" The other two wailed as Russia turned the table over (despite the cups, saucers, _lebkuchen_ and papers it sent flying), smiling brightly at the shivering nation who was now exposed. Mentioning Russia's bosses was never a good idea.

"Russia does what he likes," the large man said breezily, but something about him talking in the third person and glowing purple made him... less breezy. "Mr Khrushchev is a silly man. Mr Pipe and I will explain some things to him..."

With that ominous (for Khrushchev anyway) statement, Russia slammed the table back up and stormed out.

"Oww," Latvia whispered, clutching his head which had been inadvertently(?) caught by one of the table legs.

Lithuania sighed heavily. "Come on and we'll get the ice on it, Raivis, before you get another bump…"

They went to the freezer, and Estonia put his head in his hands.

It had been a stressful time recently in Russia's house – even more than usual - but Estonia had been hoping the progress made between America and Russia would really mean something. Now, though...

"Pask! Those two and their ridiculous, childish Cold War! I knew the competitiveness wouldn't stop any time soon! This is going to be a long month," Estonia grumbled to himself, wiping his smudgy glasses on his jumper. He could still remember Alfred's last Christmas party – food poisoning, England's drunken magic and Russia smashing up the Monopoly board – a bit not good. Actually, he realised, one of the only things he liked about 'being one with Russia' was that he didn't have to meet the other nations on a regular basis.

"A very long month..."

**So, that's it for my Prologue! A short and poor intro, but it will improve: I ****promise! Next chapter tomorrow, or I'll face the wrath of Russia (not fun).****My first published Hetalia fic, so leave a little review and I will be endlessly ****grateful.**

**~The Communists tried to discourage Christmas, but lots of people celebrated it anyway. Also, I know Russia celebrates Christmas on the 6****th**** January, but the party will be on the 25****th**** to suit the other nations…**

**~In 1963 the US and the Soviet Union agreed to establish a communications link (so I take that as poor Ivan and Alfred were forced to talk to each other a lot on the phone.) Please correct me if anything in this is total rubbish by the way: unfortunately I've never learnt about the Cold War so I used the power of Google and imagination!**

**~Lebkuchen – a delicious German gingerbready/cakey thing with icing or chocolate on the top that's kind of hard to describe. It's awesome enough for Prussia to eat: enough said.**

**~Pask – Estonian, 'shit'.**


	2. Chapter Two: Making A List

**Chapter Two: Making A List, Checking It Twice**

**^Sorry, I couldn't resist^**

**Thank you very much for your reviews – they made me feel all bubbly **** (In a good way). I've read the Baltics celebrating Christmas **_**within **_** other fics before but I don't know if anyone has done solely a Baltic Christmas… if you have feel free to shout at me (but be aware that I've got a wand, a sonic screwdriver and the power of the former USSR behind me…). Seriously, I don't mean to copy anyone.**

**I don't own Hetalia (well, not in this universe…)**

**December 2****nd****, about 10:40 am **

"…It's going to be a complete mash-up of rituals anyway, with everyone here. And when are we going to have it? The 25th of December or the 7th of January?"

"25th, because the idiots will all turn up then anyway." Russia grumbled.

"Hey!" Lithuania suddenly spoke up, his face plastered with inspiration. "That's it, Eduard! 'A complete mash-up of rituals' is the perfect thing for an international party! A mix of Christmas traditions, something from every nation, has got to top Mr America – he really doesn't care about other countries, and his party was all about him."

"This is true," Russia wore his childish, evil grin, waving his vodka bottle to punctuate his speech. "And then all the nations will like me the best, da!" He was standing directly behind Estonia (you could call it _looming_).

Eduard chewed his pen, a bad habit. "That _is_ a good idea, but it'll be hard to achieve. Hard to make it special for every nation…"

It was the next day, and Russia's fury and Latvia's bump had mostly died down. Estonia sat at his desk, making a list of everything a Christmas party would require, whilst the others were 'trying to help'. The study was small and cramped with the three of them peering over his shoulder, and it made him feel distinctly nervous.

"Right, we'll start with decorations." He underlined the word in his yellow notepad. "Raivis?"

"B-balloons," the boy said firmly. "It's not a p-party without b-balloons, and P-Peter likes them."

"Not very Christmassy, but if you say so, vähe Läti…" he forced himself to turn to his left. "M-Mr R-Russia?"

"Tinsel. Sparkly." Russia added. "And I can put some round my scarf."

Luckily, Russia didn't hear the collective snort as the Baltics imagined him wrapped in colourful tinsel. Estonia shut his eyes, hard, but the mental image was now scored into his brain forever.

After an awkward moment of repressed laughter, he gulped; "Lithuania, any suggestions?"

"Last year, Mr America had a huge tree. We'll have to go bigger. And that means baubles, candy canes, lights…"

"That's a German tradition though," Estonia looked up at his boss, knowing his hatred of the Germanic brothers and wondering if he'd mind.

"No matter," Russia shrugged, taking a sip of vodka. "They invented a lot of Christmas traditions, and I liked them when we first adopted it anyway."

"Um, actually, the C-Christmas tr-tree was invented in L-Latvia!" pointed out Raivis, but he was ignored (he'd been claiming this for years to no avail.)

"What will we put on the top of the tree?"

"A red star." Russia said firmly. No argument allowed.

"Food." was the next underlined word in Estonia's notepad. Latvia leaned over his shoulder and scribbled 'Lebkuchenhaus'. "Please?"

"Oh, fine. Chocolate as well, sweets, all those sort of things."

"Hot chestnuts!" Lithuania sighed, feeling his stomach rumble (in longing, for his time in America's house?) "Candied peel."

Estonia listed all the treats. "And what about dinner? Let's do a buffet…"

"Well, we will not eat meat until advent's over," Russia announced firmly. "As you know."

"It'll have to be vegetarian… some countries won't be happy…" Lithuania moved his hair out of his eyes, still thinking about hot chestnuts.

"Well that is tough," Russia said, ending the conversation. "Next."

"Drink" was the third item on the list.

"Vodka," the four nations said together.

Lithuania, being accommodating, made notes for the other countries. "Maybe beer? And wine for France, or he'll be miserable and go off in a huff."

"Good," Russia murmured under his breath.

"Fruit juice for Sealand."

"He w-will not l-like that."

"Latvia, I remember when the two of you got drunk. Never again."

Raivis blushed peony and decided to keep quiet for a bit.

"Invitations" was on there, under which Russia snatched the pen, scrawled 'Everyone' and then gave it back.

"Prepare for chaos, Eduard," Estonia thought to himself.

"Other." was the last item.

"Oh, Christmas crackers! We had them in England one time!"

Russia looked curious. "What?"

"W-well, they have some sweet or prize inside, and y-you and a friend try to pull apart this tube…" Lithuania trailed off as he realised how violent Russia might get with a Christmas cracker (he was completely unaware of his own strength sometimes).

Latvia, of course, was oblivious to Lithuania's sudden lack of enthusiasm. "I c-can make those!"

"They sound fun," Russia smiled again. "Well, that seems to be it, da?"

Tapping some figures into his calculator and scribbling notes at the bottom of the pad, Estonia looked crestfallen. "I've added on a good deal for insurance though, as they're bound to trash the place…"

Russia looked at the final figure, blinked, and went to grab another bottle of vodka.

**Sorry to end badly here, but I wanted to get this posted (also I was slightly out of ideas)… and then I went Christmas shopping and wrapping and etcetera and ran out of time. BUT I still posted it on time (ish) – an achievement for me! I'd have been less shady about the figure, but Russia's roubles confuse me…**

**If you can think of anything else to go on Esty's list please help, as I can update the chapter and put them in! (apart from presents, that will come later… maybe)**

_**~vähe Läti – **_**Estonian, little Latvia**

_**~Lebkuchenhaus**_** – kind of self-explanatory if you read my last chapter notes – German gingerbread cake house!**

**~In the Russian orthodox church they celebrate Christmas on the 7****th**** of January, and also have a fourty day advent where they don't eat meat (according to Mr. Google)**

**~The first recorded Christmas tree was actually in Riga, Latvia! So there!**

**~The Christmas cracker was invented in England by Tom Smith after he went to France in the 1800's! (Am I sensing a FACE family connection here?)**

**Update tomorrow, I promise :)**


	3. Chapter Three: Decking The Halls

**Good morning, or evening, or night, or afternoon depending on when and where you are reading this! :)**

**After an hour of my life I will never get back trying to get Word Starter to work, I have resorted angrily to WordPad with it's annoyingly wide margins (grr, I **_**hate**_** wide margins!)**** and also no spellcheck. So if you notice any differences in format or a sudden degrading of my spelling/grammar that's probably why.**

**Thanks for the follows/favourites and reviews as always, old chaps. *gives out virtual mince pies*. Oh my goshes, I just realised I never mentioned mince pies in the last chapter! I ADORE MINCE PIES! They will make an appearance soon enough, to be sure… and SeaLat? I know, they are my OTP and will definitely make an appearance!**

**I'm pretty sure I still don't own Hetalia. Seen as I can't draw to save my life it's probably unlikely.**

**Chapter Three – Decking the Halls**

**8****th**** December, 1963. 4:25 PM, …maybe at some point?**

Latvia had spent the morning doing homemade decorations: making christingles, twisting coloured paper for streamers and, of course, Christmas crackers. He laid them out in the sitting room by the Rubbish Drawer (you know the sort: it's full of odds and ends like string, stamps and matches and also less useful things such as unpaid bills, used-up batteries and marbles). Unfortunately, Russia didn't realise what the painstaking creations were, and they were swept into said drawer never to reach the light of day again - or at least, not until the middle of the 1980's when Lithuania finally got round to clearing it out...

Innocently getting on with jobs (or in Latvia's case, bemoaning his lost decorations: "B-but I'm sure I p-put them there, Esty!"), the Baltics thought it would be a rather peaceful evening.

They were wrong.

"Raivis! Toris! Eduard! I need your help with something!"

"I hate it when he uses those names," Estonia thought crossly, disturbed in the middle of writing a grovelling letter of apology to a hospitalised Khrushchev. "And we're not supposed to use his!"

Of course, he thought these things, but he also liked his head, and he wasn't about to start calling Mr. Russia "Ivan".

The wind howled miserably around them as the three Baltics (under the direction of Russia) finally lugged the last of the heavy boxes out of the idling postal truck. Latvia ended up with one - admittedly light - package the same size as he was, and to anyone in front it would look like a walking box in buckled boots. Hitting them with every step, the drizzle dragged any semblance of their Christmas spirit off to a KGB prison and destroyed it… or so it felt.

"Eduard, you look like you have been hit with a kipper," Russia laughed as the dripping nations got into the large, ornate hall. "Cheer up, da?"

Estonia merely grunted, throwing the box he was carrying moodily to the floor – he was probably the only Baltic who could get away with this kind of attitude. His glasses had steamed up on entry, and that coupled with his scowl made him seem quite scary. Latvia jumped almost out of his skin when he saw him.

"_Na ir na_," Lithuania sighed, sliding to the floor and sweeping his hair back in a habitual gesture. "I need a cup of tea. Right now."

Although Raivis' arms felt like they were about to drop off, he headed dutifully for the kettle. "Y-you w-want one too, Esty? M-mister R-R-Russia?"

"Da!" came the chorus from the hall. Latvia got out the mugs, which were getting quite chipped around the handles from their general rough treatment in the house, and put the kettle on.

Heading back to the large hall, he stammered "C-can s-someone help m-me off with my b-boots? My feet are all w-wet inside…"

Before Russia could volunteer (and probably dislocate the poor nation's ankles), Lithuania grabbed the left and Estonia the right, solving the buckles-and-triple-knot puzzle with numb, fumbling fingers. The kettle sang, and, to their surprise, Russia finished making the tea and actually seemed almost apologetic when he handed everyone a steaming mug.

He sat in the middle of the wide staircase and twirled Mr. Pipe between his fingers. The smell of sweat and wet socks pervaded in the air like a secondary school changing room (although of course not nearly as bad, seen as they also smell of plumbing and mould.) Lithuania was thankful - for possibly the millionth time - that they didn't have carpets down anymore.

"Well, don't you want to look in the boxes?" Russia finally asked, too impatient to wait any longer.

The Baltics nodded obediently, lifting their mugs off the small one they were using as a coffee table and peeling back layers of brown tape.

Glass baubles of every colour gleamed as they hit the light. Latvia gasped; Lithuania picked one up to feel the weight; and Esty gave a low, admiring whistle. "Nice, M-Mister R-Russia!"

Latvia, cheering up rapidly, ran barefoot across the warm wooden floor (Ivan loved underfloor heating) to open the next package; and the next, and the next… his excitement was infectious, and soon even Estonia was ripping off the tape. Crystalline icicles, all-flavour candy canes, streamers, hundreds of balloons and-

"TINSEL!" Russia suddenly screamed, opening the Latvia-sized package with glee. "Raivis, quick; I want it on all the banisters, all the windowsills…"

The two of them rushed around, throwing tinsel everywhere. Lithuania smiled, reaching for the dark green Zorki and taking a snapshot (he was a good photographer, and always did the picture taking). "I love it when he's like this."

"Like a child?" Estonia asked, having come off his high and picking up the sticky tape and wrappers. "Forgetting what he's ordered, or not bothering to tell us? Being insane?"

"Oh, stop it, you." Taking a sip of tea, Lithuania stretched contentedly. "You're such a pessimist sometimes, Esty. And you know what I mean. Being _happy_-insane, and making Raivis laugh. And at least he got the decorations – saves us doing it."

"He'll make him cry in a minute," Estonia warned. "And then you'll be picking up the pieces."

Lithuania gave him a glare, but said nothing as the other two burst back into the room, Russia with ruby tinsel around his scarf and Latvia with multi-coloured strands in his sandy hair.  
>"What about the tree, then?" Toris asked innocently, lifting up the huge-and-now-infamous red star topper.<p>

"I thought maybe you'd all like to come and pick it? That will be fun, da?"

Estonia and Lithuania eyed each other. Now Russia was _really_ acting out of character, and that made them worried: the safest way to be in the USSR was to be able to predict the boss's every move…

"A-All right, da, let's!" Estonia nodded as enthusiastically as he could.

Two hours later, snow in his hair and stuck at the top of a ten foot fir tree, he really wished he hadn't.

"T-T-Toris! R-Raivis?! M-Mr R-Russia?! _PASK!_"

**OOH, is that a cliffhanger I see before me? Hehe. I can probably get another chapter up today because cliffhanger, but I liked ending it here! Krasavitsa knows this but I'm planning on finishing for the 7th January: Russie's Christmas!**

**Plus, I have a headcanon where Russia may be freezing, but he loves underfloor heating and curls up wherever to nap. I may put this in somewhere... maybe**

**~Rubbish Drawer - because we can't be the only family with one...**

**~Christingles - I have no idea if other countries do this really, though they came up with it in Germany and Austria (which I now want to write about)! It's a thing we generally do here as primary school kids: you tie a red ribbon round an orange, put cocktail sticks in with sweets on and a candle in the top (last year we put cloves in ours and put them on the radiator - they smell wonderful). But then I realised it was only popularised here in Iggy by 1968! Oh well, Lati can have the inside scoop. It basically represents Christ being the light of the world.**

**~KGB - the USSR's nasty secret police.**

_**Na ir na**_** - Lithuanian for "phew" apparently! It sounds so much more like a sigh of relief than "phew" that I'm going to use it now! (Though I'll probably pronounce it totally wrong)...**

**~Zorki - a camera manufactured by the Soviet Union around that time and the first one to be exported everywhere. Liet had a polaroid at first, and then I had to Google USSR cameras which lead to a whole lot of procrastination...**


	4. Chapter Four: NO, Christmas Tree!

**Chapter Four: NO, Christmas Tree! (and ear-flap-hats)**

**^(goshes, I can't stop with the themed titles)^**

**Hi, yes, B is back yet again...**

**The whole chapter thing/ numbers not matching up is really annoying me, so I'm just going to change the prologue to 'Chapter One' and so on.**

**I intended this to be really Latvia-centric, but I keep getting Esty's grumpy point of view! So yeah, he's sort of writing himself. Don't blame me for his really bad mood!**

**Thanks for being awesome, guys. *gives more mice pies, and tea, then glares at you for leaving virtual crumbs on my keyboard* Ahem, da. Here's Chapter Four (it got a bit depressing at the beginning; I think I forgot I was trying to be happy and Christmassy, hence my need to immediately lighten it with Twenty Questions and the Beatles) WARNING: Slight fourth wall breaking (I can't resist it)**

**Spelling and grammar mistakes are just because you got crumbs in my keyboard during the last paragraph, and not due to my lazy editing.**

**(Hetalia is not mine... TODAY!)**

**December 8th, 1963. Nearly 8PM (to start with)**

It was very dark now, and Estonia was shivering hard. His shouts were getting weaker as his throat grew hoarse, and tears stung his eyes. He hadn't been this cold since the Second World War, and the memories that came with the thought of it were nearly as painful as the wind whooping in his ears.

"LITHUANIAAAAA! TORIS! TOOORIS! T-T-TORIS! I'm sorry, Toris! I'm sorry..."

A flashback: he thought about Germany and Prussia, untying him, smiling with their lies. Ludwig:"You're safe now, _Estland_."  
>Gilbert: "We promise, and we don't break our awesome promises..."<br>Yet within a month he'd lost his independence, his friends, his people...

"Cold, Toris," he said softly as he lost grip on the top branches. "I'm too cold."

They had all piled into Russia's sturdy sunflower-gold Volga, playing a game of Twenty Questions to keep them occupied on the trip. Lithuania was driving, Estonia had jumped in up front next to him, Latvia was squashed between facing the back window, and Russia was sprawled along the whole back seat.

"...Um, is it a living thing?" Lithuania asked, attempting to see through the horrible weather. The windscreen wipers swung rythmically.

"D-da. That's four."

"Can it fly?" was Estonia's bored query.

"_Nooo!_" Latvia said, as if this was really obvious. "Five."

"Well, I don't know what it is, do I?"

"Shush," Lithuania admonished him. "M-Mr R-Russia? Y-your turn."

"H-he's asleep." Raivis sighed_._

A few moments passed. The car idled in a jam. The wipers swished.  
>"Does it eat carrots?"<p>

"No. Six. Guys, I'm really squashed..."

"I give up," Estonia finished the game prematurely by turning on the radio (which they only had because the car was government issue) and messing with the dials until he found a pirate station. "And if you don't like it, you can go in the boot. OW! Toris!"

Lithuania had kicked his ankle hard. "Give the kid a break, Eduard!"

"TH-THE B-BEATLES! S-Sea loves them!" Raivis shouted, incognizant; jumping up and down to the tune on the radio and singing along in English. "_Love, love me do! You know, I love you! I'll always be true!"_

_"So pleeeeaaaase, love me do-o!" _Russia bellowed unexpectedly from the back of the car, causing a "pask!" from Estonia and making Lithuania swerve the Volga violently.

"_Ak dievs, a-a-ak d-dievs_!" moaned Latvia. "I a-am in tr-trouble..."  
>However, Russia didn't sit up or yell or sing anything else, and the Baltics decided he was probably joining in whilst asleep. Still, it was deemed safer to turn the Western pop off for the remainder of the journey.<p>

"I wonder where he heard that before..." Lithuania couldn't help but smile.

Humming "Do You Want To Know A Secret" under his breath, Latvia thought about his best friend. He hadn't seen Sealand in weeks, and it made his heart hurt slightly to be reminded of him. Resolving to call as soon as they got back, he wriggled as much as he could trying to get into a comfortable position.

At last, they arrived. Lithuania tried to come up with gentle ways of waking Russia, but Estonia just leaned over and said, "awesome."

It did the trick. Russia woke up with a jolt and an angry yell of: "_Prussiya, vy ne kruto_!", immediately alert and waving his pipe in the air.

"That wasn't nice!" Lithuania hissed, exasperated. "Esty, what has got into you today? You're the one who always says it isn't nice to bully the weak..."

They were on the outskirts of a desolate, snowy forest, with nothing but coniferous trees as far as the eye could see. The nations clambered out of the car, parking it next to a large red signpost with faded lettering. "We don't want to get lost in this. Maybe we should come back when it's lighter, M-Mr R-Russia?"

"_Nyet._ We're here now."

There was never any arguing with Russia.

Raivis, for once, was glad of the furry hat with ear-flaps Lithuania had made him wear, even if it did make him look about seven or eight. The sun was dipping rapidly below the trees, and he attempted to match Russia's pace (although he always stayed slightly behind). He could hear Toris and Eduard fighting behind him, even through the ear-flaps, and he wished they weren't. It always made him feel sick inside, made his stomach churn with possibilities... _what if they really fell out? What if they went to war - I would be stuck in the middle! What if they left me here with Russia? What if...? What if...?_ They were, he realised, sort of like parents who wanted to divorce - Lithuania would definitely be the worrying mum, and Estonia the stressed dad.  
>And Russia would be... who knows? An absolutely mental, powerful grandfather who kept escaping from the nursing home? The thought, although it was a bit mean, cheered him up a bit.<p>

"Are you all right, Lat?" Lithuania caught up with him, rubbing the ear-flap-hat affectionately.

"Y-You were arguing w-w-with Esty," Latvia didn't turn to look at him, concentrating on Russia's pink-and-tinselly scarf ahead.

"He's being a -" Lithuania swallowed his words, remembering that he was talking to Latvia and that this fic is K+ rated. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Where's M-Mr R-Russia going?"

"Found it!" Russia turned to them, pointing at a fir almost as wide as it was high. "This is the one!"

"D-don't you th-think maybe it's a little big for the fr-front hall?" Lithuania stammered as much as Latvia normally did at the sheer size of the thing. He pictured Russia making them drag it all the way back home, looking ridiculous and freezing half to death...

"HAHAHAHA, got you good, da? Nyet, THIS is not the right size at all."

Lithuania forced a laugh. "H-ha, very funny, M-Mr Russia. Got me there-"

"THIS is!"

It was three times as large.

Toris almost fainted.

Meanwhile, Estonia had stormed off to another part of the forest, muttering to himself about how it was: "...always my fault, because I'm _bullying_ the big kolkolkoling brute-"

Trailing off, in the same way that a small child stops peering through a shop window and suddenly glances behind him, Estonia realised that he was lost. Guilt flooded him with his next breath, and then panic. He checked his pockets - no map, no torch, no money...

"_Jumal küll! _No no nonononononono!"

He cursed himself for being such an _idiot_, being so nasty to Raivis, fighting with Toris, losing Russia... and his fear led to some quite bad decisions.

He began to climb the biggest tree he could, shouting their names all the time. To himself, he reasoned that nothing could climb up and eat him (it could) and that he'd be able to see better at the top (it was still horrendously cloudy, and night was falling). Although he looked weedy, he'd fought a lot in his short lifetime and often went riding during his independence... but he was hungry, tired and definitely not the toughest nation out there. And when he reached the top, he realised he didn't have the strength to get down again.

He wished he'd worn his own ear-flap-hat.

Russia removed an axe from his coat, causing Latvia and Lithuania to take two or three or ten steps back.

"Don't worry! I know what I'm doing!"  
>Possibly the seven scariest words that exist, particularly coming from a mad axe-wielding Russian.<p>

He swung his axe.  
><em>Craa-aack! <em>echoed through the forest.  
>"DER'MO! MY SHOULDER!"<br>He had missed the tree entirely.

Estonia felt almost frozen as his fingers began to slip. It ached too much to hold on anymore, and he fell, hitting every single sharp branch as he tumbled down, down, down...

As Russia hopped up and down, swearing and kolkolkoling about his dislocated shoulder, Latvia heard the sound of branches flicking back. Glancing up, he saw... "ESTY!"

Russia, roused from his own problem by the cry, dived and caught him just in time.

"Eduard, my little Eduard!" he gasped, cradling him as if he was a baby. Estonia coughed and was sick all over his boss, before falling unconscious completely.

**9th December, 11AM**

"We are getting an artificial tree," Russia told them over a very late breakfast.

Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia nodded in agreement, the last with crutches under his chair and a face covered in plasters and scratches.  
>Russia's coat was stained.<br>Nobody thought it was wise to say anything else about Christmas trees that day.

**So, that happened. Poor Esty! And yeah, I've written another one for today! *pats self on back*. Review and you get a mince pie, shortbread, tea and a CUDDLY TOY! No, seriously, I hope you liked it. My chapters are getting longer and longer!**

**AND NOW... Many, many chapter notes!**

_**~Estland**_** - German for Estonia (well I never). When the Germans occupied in 1941 the Estonians thought they would be independent again... alas, no.**

**~In the USSR Volga's were really popular and desirable cars. And I don't know if they'd be able to get pirate radio stations, but hey, Estonia's got techie skills!**

**~Love Me Do by the Beatles was their debut single and was released in 1962. It did well in the charts, but my favourite Beatles songs are the later ones. I know Beatlemania wasn't that widespread yet in 1963, but Lat and Sea are trendsetters!**

_**Ak dievs **_**- Latvian, oh my God**

**~Do You Want To Know A Secret is another Beatles song that was out in that time. It's Sealand and Latvia's song (to me, anyway. Aw, they're cuties!) Google the lyrics and ship away...**

_**Prussiya, vy ne kruto! **_**- Prussia, you are not awesome! Actually, literally it's 'Prussia, you are not cool!' - Russia doesn't even have a word for awesome. That's got to be solely to annoy Gilbert.**

**~If Estonia and Lithuania went to war, Latvia is both metaphorically and physically stuck in the middle. (cries at thought)**

**~Ear-flap-hats! Because I can.**

_**Jumal küll - **_**Estonian, oh my God**

**~Der'mo! - Russian, shit!**


	5. Chapter Five: Everywhere You Go

**_EDIT_ because there are reasons why you don't publish new chapters in the middle of the night.**

**Chapter Five: Everywhere You Go...**

**Yes, it's B, returned after a break of ONE WHOLE DAY (duh duh duh!) Actually, not even that. I've returned in the middle of the night, which is not healthy. Ah well, burning the midnight oil...**

**I feel like this fic is moving too slow... will anyone want to read about Christmas after Christmas? Will I want to write about Christmas after Christmas? Am I overusing the word Christmas? What is Christmas? Who is Christmas...? Christmaschristmaschristmaschristmas...**

***cough***  
><strong>Also, I'm aware that my AN's are becoming ridiculously long tea parties. Sorry-not-sorry :P have yet more cake...This one isn't that long, actually. But you haven't seen my notes at the end...<strong>

**Thank you for your reviews and the follows/favourites! (ninjapotterjedigirl, Krasavitsa, wuyule11111 and Hortense Scarlet)! ****They make me ridiculously glad and also festive-spirity.**

**WARNING: Fourth wall breaking, _again_. And Esty ignoring me and writing himself.**

**I've not bought Hetalia since Sunday. Sorry to disappoint.**

**13th December, 1963...**

*snap* - Lithuania had the Zorki again, pinning the moment forever in time: Russia lifting Latvia up so that he could put the red star on the top of the tree. Latvia's face shone exuberant in the soft gold lighting, not shaking at all although he was high off the ground. Russia's smile, for once, was entirely genuine.  
>It was a photograph Toris would never forget.<br>There were baubles and icicles on every branch, tinsel draped around the whole house, and a wreath latched to the battered front door. Even the resident Scrooge (as Toris labelled Eduard) had cheered up a little, broken foot or no.

In short, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Conversely, in Raivis Galante's humble opinion, the Christmas consumerism was terrible. Latvia didn't like shopping, for three main reasons: one, it caused fighting. Two, there were crowds and crowds of people, shoving into him, surrounding him with their noise and general hubbub and getting him lost... And three, it involved hours and hours of standing still and staring in windows. He'd been with Ukraine and Belarus once, and had sworn to himself that he'd never, ever go shopping with girls again.

However, shopping with his fellow Baltics was possibly _worse._

"What the heck do we buy for M-Mr Russia, _Estija_?!" Lithuania almost wailed as they exited the exclusive department store and trudged dismally away (Latvia dragging his feet annoyingly behind them). "What do you get the nation who has everything?"

Lithuania was usually a good present-buyer. In fact, he was carrying a monogrammed knife for Belarus, a couple of scented candles for Ukraine (both to be labelled 'from Russia') and some perfect hidden gifts for Estonia and Latvia that he'd bought when they split up for an hour.

But Russia? He was stumped.

"_Toris_, we're in a public place! Use our names! And I don't see why we shouldn't just get _'the boss' _vodka again. Like last year and the year before and the year before that..."

"Exactly. It's boring."  
>They had sat down outside a small bakery, waiting for the long, meandering queue to go down - of course, they could usually skip waiting in lines by using Russia's government pass, but it always made them feel uncomfortable to be treated like they were special (although they were nations, now they were in the Soviet Union they had very little power over anything - their bosses were merely puppets controlled by Russia). Anyway, as Estonia said, it was ridiculous to use it when it meant that their own people would be queuing more and suffering shortages.<p>

"And we care because?" Estonia retorted, rearranging his crutches. "Last time I checked, we were being held captive here! There is no obligation to get _'the boss' _a present, and if we are anyway, we don't have to be utter perfectionists."

Latvia started humming a Beatles song, playing one half of a complicated hand-slapping rhyme to the music. This soon led into his national tunes, that he was completely banned at all times from singing if he didn't want to be killed, but even that gauged no reaction from the feuding nations. Raivis was feeling pretty invisible. '_It must be like this to be Canada'_, he thought wearily.

The argument was completely pointless anyhow, as they'd been buying Russia presents for his birthday and other celebrations every year since 1950; but Estonia was fed up and thirsty, and seriously considering the government card despite his earlier pious refusals. Okay, he just wanted to pick a fight.

"I'm not being an utter perfectionist, Ed! Come on, we should get him something nice. He _did _catch you the other day, and didn't even get that mad when you were sic-"  
>He was cut off by Estonia's deathly glare, that seemed magnified by his glasses.<br>"Ah, if looks could kill! Anyway, we were allowed out for this shopping trip - we're allowed out a lot now. It's not like we're being 'held captive', you dramatic _idiotas_."

"People are watching our every move, though. C-Can't you feel them? I just... don't like being stared at." Estonia shuddered slightly, spotting one of Russia's agents out of the corner of his eye. "We're not held captive, hm? What if we ran, right now?"

"Shut up, Eduard. You're being ridiculous." Lithuania rapidly changed the subject back. "Raivis, have you got any _helpful_ present suggestions?"

As much as he hated this and didn't particularly care whether Russia got vodka or not, Latvia took the chance to distract from the dispute.

"Th-the b-boss likes s-sunflowers."

"Not in season."

"Th-the b-boss likes t-tinsel?"

"Not a present."

"V-vodka?"

"We've discussed this."

"Sc-Scarves?"

"We'd never get it right."

Latvia was getting desperate. "Fl-Fluffy hats?"

They both looked at him, picturing Russia in a fluffy hat.

"No." They chorused.

Silence.

Thinking.

"How about new mugs? He needs some; they're all chipped." Estonia said at last, getting up with some difficulty as the doors to the bakery opened and the smell of bread wafted into the icy street, causing his bottomless stomach to rumble.

"Good idea, but mugs are kind of boring..."

"N-not if we p-p-personalise them."

"That is actually a brilliant idea, Raivis." Lithuania looked impressed, taking some kopecks from his pocket and buying a hot loaf to share between them. "Someone will make money doing that someday."

A couple of white mugs, some pots of paint and a bottle of vodka anyway later, the Baltics were home in their room, taking advantage of Russia's nap to wrap up and make the presents.

"I could p-paint a fl-flower?" Latvia suggested, but the others shook their heads.

"H-He'd want it to be impressive," Lithuania said, lying sprawled on his bed and realising he now understood Poland's "shopping exhaustion".

"Red stars," Estonia traced the rim of the cup with his thumb (he was sat on the dresser). "All around here . And then the words 'the boss' in the middle..."

Lithuania laughed; "He'll like it. Can you draw that, _Latvija_?"

"S-Sure, it-it-it's not h-hard. I'm not s-so g-good at writing in R-R-Russian yet though. He k-keeps tr-trying to teach me..."

Russia was not the most patient of tutors, it had to be said, and his brusque and frankly nasty manner of teaching had made Latvia hate and fear learning the language even more. Why was Russia's alphabet so weird?! It made no sense to the small, nervous nation. He could get his stuttering tongue around the words, but...

"I'll help you," Lithuania offered, rolling over onto his stomach and kicking off his pumps. "He spent a lot of years teaching me, too."

"Speaking of writing, I better get the invites done," Estonia said, slipping off the dresser and heading for the study.

"Wait, Esty: don't forget to invite Kenya separately. She got her independence yesterday; I called earlier to congratulate her."

"I heard. On the BBC this morning. Good for her."  
>He didn't sound even a little bitter. I promise.<p>

(I'm lying).

That evening - crafting, wrapping and inviting done - the four nations sat eating dinner. Russia was just in the middle of some endless, tedious speech about why other economies were not as good as his when the doorbell rang, and all three Baltics called at once: "Don't worry, I'll get it!"

"_Nyet,_ Eduard, you must rest your foot, da? And Toris, you have not finished eating! Raivis can open the door." Russia handed over the key - the door was always locked.

Latvia smiled and slid from the table, sticking his tongue out at the other two who were stuck listening and skipping down the corridor.

"He acts so sweet and innocent," Estonia muttered to Lithuania, "But he's a cheeky one, our vähe Läti."

Pulling the various bolts back, Latvia slotted the key into the lock, swinging open the door to find-

"Y-You?!"

**CLIFFHANGER! Partly because I'm still 50/50 about who 'You?!' actually is.**

** It seems Esty is STILL GRUMPY AND TRYING TO PICK A FIGHT WITH TORIS. EVEN THOUGH I SAID YOU WERE CHEERING UP IN THE FIRST PARAGRAPH. SMILE, YA MISERABLE SOD! AM I WRITING YOU IN AN ABUSE FIC? NO! SO BE HAPPY WITH YOUR LOT!**

***ahem*, sorry, my characters are having behaviour problems and are getting overly OOC. **

**This chapter basically because, what **_**would**_** you buy the nation who has everything? (friends... *makes self cry*). Apologies that it's short... and messy... and cliffhanger(y)...**

**~Scrooge you probably know. A Christmas Carol? A miser? Some ghosts? Gaining Christmas cheer at the end? Really good Muppet version? That's the one. :)**

**~What Beatles song was Latvia humming? Well, it could be many... but I think it's Do You Want To Know A Secret again... (which I now can't get out of my head)**

**~_idiotas_ - Lithuanian, idiot (which of course was not guessable at all)**

**~Who invented the personalised mug? The internet is not telling me.**

**~One rouble = 100 kopecks**

**~_Estija/Latvija_ - Lithuanian, Estonia and Latvia (again, totally obscure :D)**

**~Sorry, I know Kenya has really nothing to do with this story, but I googled the date to see if anything important had happened, and then I couldn't not mention her...**

**~I don't know if Russia would have some kind of all-access card. This has become less well researched and more made up as time goes on... They had to queue for a long time for things and there were a lot of shortages in the USSR.  
><strong>

**~Continuing with the made up theme, I said 'Puppet Bosses', wanted to take that bit out and then all I could do was imagine Russia playing with puppets to control the other countries... which is both funny and terrifying. So I had to leave it in, although it's clumsy.**

**I'm actually low on virtual food to deliver to any reviewers.**  
><strong>Never mind, your prize will be the knowledge that you took part!<strong>

**(yay?)**


	6. Chapter Six: Silent Night (mostly)

**Chapter Six - Silent Night (mostly)**

**So, I left you with a cliffhanger! Mean, huh? :) But here I am again, and we get to see the identity of the mysterious **_**person/s at the door**_**... (Ironically I'm writing this AN and I still haven't decided. **_**I **_**don't even know who's at the door...)**

**Mr/Ms Guest: Thank **_**you**_** very much for your review, I'm glad you're finding it funny! :D And I almost wish they had bought Russia a fluffy hat...**

**Also hello new follower, gal1075! *waves madly, scaring you immediately away***

**Disclaimer? Oh, I don't own Hetalia. An awesome-as-Gilbert guy called Himaruya does... but you already knew that, didn't you.**

**13th December, 1963. The Evening**

"Y-you?!"

"Ve-! Ciao, Raivis!"

"Wh-what the _h-hell_ are y-you d-doing h-here? It-it's not Christmas y-yet."

Light dustings of snow had covered the path that would be submerged the next morning, but Latvia's eyes were fixed, frozen in place by the sight of five nations standing on Russia's doorstep... with... sheet music? And... stripy scarves?

"Vhat a velcome!" the nation who'd rung the bell said sarcastically, arms folded. (His scarf was rainbow, and matched Italy Veneziano's). "Ve come all zis vay, and... oh, never mind. Get Russia and the others, quickly, _Lettland_."

Latvia was not about to refuse his former boss, tearing into the house as fast as his short legs could carry him.

"Aw, Vest, you scared the poor unawesome little guy," Prussia said in a mock-sweet tone, poking Germany's shoulder. His scarf, if you were wondering, was an awesome black and yellow, and he'd tied it round his head like a schoolboy pretending to be a pirate. "Just like you alvays scare everyone avay from you!"

"Vill you, just zis once, _stop talking_? I have had enough of you tonight, _bruder,_ completely and utterly enough!"

Austria gave an inflated despairing sigh, wheeling his piano forward. His scarf was a horrible green and beige, but seen as he'd dressed Feliciano as a girl for years, Roderich couldn't really say no when that nation asked him specially to wear it.  
>"Zis is awful, you said I would be showcasing my skills, you didn't say I would be playing the music of a schoolteacher in an assembly! HAULING my beautiful pianoforte! Do you know how stupidly simple zese -"<p>

"SHUT UP, MUSIC BASTARD!" Romano yelled, his orange and red scarf flapping in the wind. "I don'ta wanna be here either! But I'm not-a leaving my brother with you three!"

"L-Lithuania! E-Estonia! M-Mr R-R-Russia!" Latvia almost screeched the names as he skidded through the hall in his socks and slid into the kitchen. Lithuania leapt out of his chair and was across the room in a heartbeat with a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Latvia! Are you all right? What is it, who is there? What have they done?"

Russia was glowing purple, but he looked concerned rather than angry. "Who has scared you, little Raivis? Mr. Pipe and I will go and say _privet_..."

"N-no, it-it's j-just a sh-shock, that's a-all. Th-the Italies, G-Germany, Pr-Prussia and Au-Austria are h-here..."

"What?!" Estonia and Russia jumped up too, heading to the door. Latvia, still being held by Lithuania, was starting to see the funny side.

"Y-you m-might want to g-get the Z-Zorki," he murmured, a small smile starting on his face. "I th-think th-they're carol s-singing."

Sure enough, as Estonia and Russia neared the door, Roderich started to thunder a tune on his piano (and for once it wasn't Chopin or Beethoven). His dissatisfied smirk showed how easy he found it, and as usual made Estonia slightly want to punch him.

"God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing ye dis-may!  
>For Jesus Christ thy saviour VAS born on Christmas day!..."<p>

"Eduard, what is this?" Russia asked, eyeing them with a gravely worried and serious look on his face. "Are they trying to torture us to a slow death? Or has capitalism finally driven them mad?"

"O-OH tidings of comfort and jooooy." Austria slammed the keys violently at the last word, and Gilbert was badly off key, causing Estonia to flinch hard. He realised that all this was going to end in one of two ways: A) laughter, or B) far more likely violence.

"I d-don't know, Mr. R-Russia. I mean, Pru - East Germany - is communist t-too..."

They sang another verse, and Russia rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He wished they could leave him alone and not make such a din.

What came next, though, was truly shocking.  
>Romano began to sing "Jingle Bells" in a piercingly high Italian soprano, opera-style, and he was... really good. Like, <em>really<em> good. Good enough to bring a tear to Austria's musical eye. (If an eye can be musical, that is.)  
>The Eastern Europeans did not appreciate the beauty.<br>Lithuania and Latvia were back at the doorway by that point, Toris snapping rapid gleeful shots of the blushing South Italy. He couldn't wait to get the film developed. In fact, he was so preoccupied he didn't notice Russia's distress and mounting temper...

The song finished with Romano yelling at Austria for playing it wrong and thinking he knew it all, and the carol-singing nations moved swiftly on to Ludwig and Gilbert murdering "Silent Night" in German. Latvia took a go at taking pictures. Italy Veneziano shook a bucket beneath the Baltics' noses.

"W-What are you actually raising money for?" Lithuania bellowed over the din, which only made the Germanic brothers sing louder.

"For Prussia, so he can finally move out of Germany's house!" Veneziano hollered back, smiling broadly. "It was actually my idea! Even Germany went along with it!"

"_Schlaaaaaf in himmlischer Ru-h!_  
><em>Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!"<em>

"_Dieve_, Italija, how many verses does this carol have?"

"Two more!" Italy said happily, oblivious to the look of horror on Lithuania's face.

A cold chill surrounded the nations, a flurry of stinging ice crystals hitting their faces in a whirlwind as Russia ultimately lost it. **"THAT... IS... ENOUGH."**

His bellow was so loud, the force of it slammed the piano lid down on Austria's fingers. "OW! IVAN! I'll be suing you!"

Russia shoved Estonia and Lithuania roughly aside (Latvia was already cringing and cowering behind them) and stormed up to a still singing - or bawling, depending how you put it - Ludwig, picking him up by his multicoloured scarf. "Do you think this is funny, West Germany?" he asked, very softly. He probably would have gone for Prussia, but Gilbert had had the sense to stop singing and take a few steps back.

"LUDDY!" North Italy wailed, but then ran for it. Romano followed suit, saying:  
>"I knew we shouldn't have come to the crazy vodka bastard's house!"<p>

"No, Mr. Russia, I do not think zat zis is at all funny," Germany spluttered, keeping his cool quite well under the circumstances (although seeing his boyfriend run away hurt a lot.)

"Leave _mein klein bruder_ alone, you unawesome bully!" Prussia started hitting Russia with Italy's dropped (and notably empty) bucket, though it made absolutely no impression. "Ve are raising money for a good cause!"

The Baltics were backing down the hall, seeing the thick purple and hearing the "kolkolkol" rumble in Russia's throat.

"Latvia, get to our room." Lithuania instructed quietly, pushing the boy towards the stairs and away from any harm a truly mad Russia could inflict on innocent bystanders. Raivis was all too glad to get away - he'd have a better vantage point from the bedroom window anyhow. "Esty, you go too."

The bespectacled nation shook his head. "We've got to help Ludwig."

Russia was holding his pipe across Germany's throat. "Do you know why we have built the Berlin Wall? To keep you two separated from me, so you can not pull these stupid stunts!"

Nodding violently, even Ludwig looked terrified. Part of Estonia felt pleased at this - it was revenge for the war and all the times Germany and Prussia had betrayed and hurt him during it - but most of him had let that go and wanted to help. After all, he did not want the USSR and Germany's relationship to get even worse... Things were bad enough with America...

"M-Mr R-Russia?" Lithuania worked up some courage and took some steps forward. "Y-Your d-dinner's getting very c-cold."

"It can wait," Russia growled at him, shaking Germany hard. "Do not interrupt me, Toris."

Lithuania gulped. "P-please put him d-down, M-Mr R-R-Russia. Or th-they might n-not come t-to y-your Christmas p-party, an-and -" - inspiration struck him - "Th-they will think Mr. America is b-best!"

It didn't work.

"Then they will be wrong," Russia said evenly, increasing the pressure on Germany's neck. "Please stop the talking, Toris; it is irritating me."

"FOR GOTT'S SAKE, VILL YOU LET HIM BREATHE? HE'S TURNING A NOT AWESOME BLUE!" Prussia resumed his bucket-hitting, this time with more vigour.

It looked like the scene was about to go from bad to worse, but then the music began.  
>Austria was back at the piano (sore fingers or not) and was playing as if his life - or Germany's - was on the line. He must have composed the piece himself, as it was nothing like anything they'd heard before. Enraptured, Russia flung Germany aside and began to walk towards Roderich as if he were in a dream. All the nations were, except Estonia, who felt the pull and shook himself out of it.<p>

There was peace, and it was very still, as if the whole country was holding it's breath.

A tear ran down Lithuania's cheek.

When he had finished, Roderich sighed his special sigh again, smirked, and everyone went back to wanting to punch him.

"Make sure you still come for Christmas, da?" Russia smiled innocently, as if the last ten minutes had been completely wiped from his mind.

"Ja, no hard feelings," Germany muttered, his throat scratchy and hurting when he spoke. "Come on, _bruder_, let's get out of here. I have some cowardly Italians to yell at." He grabbed Prussia's arm before he could say something stupid, and they marched off.

"Oh, _danke, _Austria! Vhat vould we have done vithout you? You prevented Vorld Var Three, Austria!" Roderich grumbled in a high-pitched impression, pushing his piano down the front path and out of the tall gates. "'Vell done, Austria!' at least vould have been nice, but _oh no,_ do I ever get any recognition..."

As the pianist's voice faded away, the three nations walked back inside, Russia relocking and bolting the door.

"I need a drink." he said finally, going to sit in the living room.

"Don't we all," Estonia muttered, grabbing the bottles.

**So, they turned up! I started writing expecting it to be Sealand or Belarus, and then Italy appeared! I know Austria might be a bit more annoying than he is in canon, but I do (like Esty) always want to punch him in the face...  
>But he did save the day, so I'll give him a break.<strong>

**I'm not going to do all the translations, as there are a good few and they're pretty obvious.**

_**mein klein bruder **_**- German, my little brother**

_**Dieves **_**- Lithuanian, oh God**

_**Lettland**_** - German, Latvia. There was a time in the war when Germany occupied the Baltic States, so that's why I've described him as a former boss. I don't think they liked him much - I'll have to write it...**

_**Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!**_** - sleep in heavenly peace. Or really not, if the Beilschmidt's are singing it.**

**~Italy Veneziano made them all wear scarves. His and Germany's are matching rainbow colours. Coincidence? Somehow, I don't think so...**

**~Reasons why I think they all went carol singing (in case it's not clear):**  
><strong>-Germany is at the point of doing anything to get Prussia to move out, plus he loves Italy so he'll take part <strong>_**some**_** of his crazy ideas**  
><strong>-Prussia wants to move out, and also likes Italy<strong>  
><strong>-Austria thought he'd be able to show off his music skills<strong>  
><strong>-Romano was being protective of Veneziano (as well, I think he secretly enjoyed it.)<strong>

**~The Berlin Wall, built after the Second World War, split Russian-occupied East Germany and independent West Germany up...**

**~When Estonia slightly wants revenge, he's again referring to World War Two, when he thought he was going to be independent and then he wasn't and a lot of his people were killed (same for all the Baltics)... And America is the Cold War, of course.**

**HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE-EVE, PEOPLE (as my little sister keeps calling it.) See you tomorrow with Chapter Seven!**


	7. Chapter Seven: Rudi The Stolen Reindeer

**Chapter Seven: Rudi The Stolen Reindeer**

**It's a wonderful achievement that I actually managed to get this up without punching anything - not even Austria - BUT I DID! Dieves, that was so frustrating! So if you're still in the mood for this sort of thing, here's Chapter Seven. **

**By the way, if you're in the future (like 2016, 2018, even later) and have somehow uncovered this in the landfill site that is the internet, don't be afraid to review! Unless I decide to go and live with a cult, I will still check it out and be really glad. I say this because I never know whether to review people's stories when they wrote them in 2010 or something like that...**

**I've noticed reading through (and also rewatching Axis Powers) that Latvia has got way more stammery over time than he's ever been anywhere: sorry about the inconsistency, and I'll probably make him stammer less because he's getting really annoying to write...**

**Thanks as always for reading and reviewing all you guys! There will be a double on the 27th (maybe) to make up for my Christmas absence.**

**Hope you had a very happy holidays!**

19th December, 1963. 11:40 AM

Lithuania's teeth were chattering, knocking together so hard it was audible. He could see every swirl of breath as clouds in the grey-white sky, and his old back hurt as he worked.

"Toris, I've made soup for when you're done!" Eduard called, having managed to get out of the job by limping and wincing on his crutches. _Slimy bastard..._

"Thanks, I'm nearly finished!" he replied with his usual false brightness, shovelling the last of the deep snow from the path. "Damn that General Winter..."

Turning round to admire his handiwork, he saw that, right in the middle of his nicely cleared cobbles... there was a steaming turd.

_"Oh, this is too much!" _he thought crossly, arming himself with a paper bag he kept for such occasions and tentatively moving towards the mess. (He did not like dogs, and didn't want to be anywhere near if it was still around.)_ "Nasty strays, trespassing everywhere, doing whatever-"_

He stopped.

He was near enough now to see the trail leading away from the waste.

It wasn't paw-prints.

It was... hooves?

Toris Laurinaitis would probably be the last nation to call himself a detective, but following that trail was irresistible. He loved horses (though these markings were quite small for horse hooves) and very much missed his own, and if there was one around he was going to find it. Scooping up the dung with his bag, he journeyed from the relative safety of the path - ignoring the rules of every folk tale he'd ever been told - and ploughed through Russia's snowy grounds, making coaxing clicking noises with his tongue. "Here, Mr. Horse! Here!"

Not very long later, Latvia was taking out the rubbish, and had also been instructed to see what was taking Lithuania so long. The bag was full to bursting, and he found it too heavy to lift, so he had to drag it across the front path and down to the gates. Of course, when he reached the point where Toris's footprints had deviated away he became extremely worried - he'd heard enough horror stories about what lived and hid in Russia's gardens to fill his already colourful nightmares. And of course none of that was true, but...

Raivis Galante would probably be the last nation to call himself brave, but he wanted to prove he didn't believe in Russian monsters (and he knew he'd get an eyeroll and a smart comment if he went in to tell Esty he was too scared to look for the eldest Baltic...)

To make a long story short, he abandoned the bag followed Lithuania's footsteps.

Soon, he was knee-deep in snow, and starting to panic. He remembered one time when he was younger - 1953? 54? - and had tried to run away. He hadn't got much farther than this when he'd been collared, dragged back to the house and told the story of Baba Yaga: the Russian witch who lives in a chicken-legged house and catches and eats small children...

It was a fairytale for little kids, but Russia's eyes had burned with terror as he recounted the tale, grasping Latvia's arm so hard it left dark bruises.

"It is why you must not leave me, Raivis." He had pleaded, twisting the smaller nation's arm fiercely. "Because something bad will catch you... Something bad will catch you... And then you will be gone forever, nation or no. You understand, da?"

Whether they were true or not, the big nation certainly believed in those folk stories, in _her_. And anything that frightened Russia that much had to be very, very bad indeed.

Latvia heard a grunting snort less than a foot away.

He screamed his head off.

Meanwhile, not so far away, Finland was stomping forwards and backwards in anguish.  
>"...but he couldn't have escaped! I keep them in that pen there all the time!" he wailed.<p>

"C'lm down," Sweden mumbled, patting him on the head in a way Finland felt was quite derogatory (but was too distracted to complain about).

"B-but what about the sleigh?! What about the presents?! Rudi is my prize runner, Mr. Swe!"

Sweden could not necessarily see the problem. Okay, so there were lots of reindeer who all looked vaguely the same, and one of them made a break for it? Surely Christmas would live without one...

"Are you sure it didn't r'n away?" He asked, trying not to yawn.

"I don't think so! No, that is not at all like Rudi! And like I said, the pen was locked!"

"Th'n he was t'ken from yer," he stated matter of factly. Tino gaped.

"But who would steal a reindeer from Santa?"

"...Who do yer border? Norway?"

"No, he wouldn't take him! He usually helps out - there'd be no reason..."

"Russia?"

Finland looked up. "Paska! Oh... I bet you're right: he's always taking things! Why him? Any other less scary country... Well, he won't get away with it, just because he's creepy. That's not fair, and I always try to be fair!"

He stormed off in a passion, still ranting. Sweden gazed at 'his wife' adoringly for a moment or two, before following after. As long as Finland was angry, he was angry... okay, annoyed and slightly amused. But of course, he was protective of Tino and didn't want him falling into a fight with Russia...

"What if he takes one of yer ports?"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY PORTS, SWE!"

"F'n! F'n! I didn't steal yer dumb red-nosed reindeer, did I? Wait!"

Reindeer don't live in Latvia, and the poor nation had not actually seen one before. To be honest, he thought that both Santa and reindeer were fictional, but on turning and raising his shaky fists in defence he realised this was not the case.

"A-ak d-d-dieves!" He tried to step back, but the snow was too deep. Also, the reindeer was strangely tame, and it's nose was a blood red colour, almost like...

After a long stare-off, he unclenched a fist and thrust his hand forward, palm open. "_If it eats me_, he thought, _everything should go to Lithuania and Estonia..."_ Then he realised he had no real possessions of his own to give out so the thought was pointless. This made him remorseful, which in turn led to the 'What If' game (which is a terrible place to end up in your head, because you end up regretting every decision you've ever made). However, it meant in this case that he was distracted from panicking, and didn't immediately notice Rudi licking his hand.

The creature was licking his hand!

And it was actually... quite cute!

"Latvia-a!" Estonia roared, having heard the scream. He hurried down the front path, limp forgotten. _He wouldn't have gone off the path, would he? Not after... PASK he had!_

"Oh, hello, Estonia!" Russia was behind him, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder.

He swallowed.

"What are you doing out here? It's cold, da? I thought you said it made your foot ache?" Russia was looking confused - and suspicious.

"I-I heard L-Läti - and I thought, I thought you had - and he and T-Toris left the path!" Estonia gestured to the footprints wildly, biting back the urge to blurt 'I didn't do anything it wasn't my fault whatever it was it was somebody else!' that he always got around Russia.

"Oh, well, I have told them enough times! I know you don't believe me, but I would have thought those two had sense!" Russia pulled his fringe and looked, suddenly, very shy. Like he must have been when he was chibi...

"Estonia, there is something more urgent I must do. Very urgent. You see, you know when I sometimes borrow things without giving them back? Or asking?"

Eduard did not like where this was going, but nodded, glad to be off the hook.

"Yes, I know." '_only too well'_

**Na ir na! So that's that! Maybe there'll be another chapter today... Probably not. Apologies for it's shortness and Extremely Obvious Plot disorder.**

**This chapter was inspired by my friend drawing Russia with a reindeer, and my little sister thinking that reindeer don't exist. (Bless...)**

**I've never written Finland and Swe before! How'd I do? I'm starting to really like the Nordics...**

**~Norway helping out is because people also believe Santa lives in Greenland... Okay, I know Greenland is part of Norway but I **_**need**_** an APH Greenland! Maybe I'll write him in!**

**~No wonder Russia is messed up: some of his folk tales are really twisted and nasty! I think he does believe in them, and Latvia or Lithuania might, but Esty is logical...**

**~And yes, I did research the countries that reindeer live in. I'm not sad or anything.**

**HAPPY BOXING DAAAAY! Time for regret; watching unfunny comedy with much canned laughter; eating leftover food for the next week; playing board games with sisters that still don't believe in reindeer (it's a good thing she won't read this); and going for horrible long walks in the rain! (Or at least intending to)**


	8. Chapter Eight: A Sweden Came Travelling

**Chapter Eight: A Sweden Came Travelling**

**I can now write Chapter Eight on very snazzy Microsoft Word (changing again, I know, but it's so much easier!). Therefore I've got a word count (so will be guilt-tripped into writing a longer chapter) and also spellcheck back! As well, my file sizes are ma-hoo-sive!**  
><strong>Only thing is, our current dreadful weather means that I may never see WiFi again, so I have no idea when this will be published…<strong>

**Thank you as always, awesome people, for reviews… I love 'em I love 'em I love 'em!**  
><strong>Also, I absolutely promise there will be SeaLat soon – but no spoilers!<strong>

**Guest: Yeah, I was just googling and… sheesh. Scary stuff **

19th December, 1963. 12ish

Carefully patting the animal, and getting closer and closer, Raivis tried to keep his breathing regular and not challenge the creature by staring at it in the eyes. He marvelled at the almost glowing nose, and the way it sliced through the descending white fog like a sword: smooth, straight, sharp. He felt the soft back, the warmth, and something else that was almost inexplicably – odd. Unnatural, yet the most natural thing ever at the same time, like flowers but with a metallic, bloody tang. The exact feeling he'd had visiting Romania, or when he caught England's eye at world conferences…  
>An energy<br>Magic.

Estonia shuffled from foot to foot, wiping his glasses on his sleeve He decided that the very next time the Baltics got time off, he would be going into Moscow and getting a tattoo of the words: _'I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS_'. Probably on his arm. Or forehead. Or chest.  
>"So, I flew the reindeer back here. But then it wandered off. I am very worried, Eduard: it is not wild like the ones who live in our countries. Also, I have no quarrel with Mr. Sweden, and he is bound to show up here if I don't get the reindeer back…"<p>

"Mr R-Russia, you're saying that you stole-"

"Borrowed."

"Borrowed R-Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? And then you lost him? I-I'm s-sorry, but-"

"But?"

He'd been about to say 'that's completely insane' when he checked himself and bit his tongue.

"But what, Eduard?" Russia asked again, looking down at him in a way that made him gulp.

"But… but…"

"AK DIEVES! TH-THIS IS _GROOOOVY!"_

Toris hadn't found anything (he'd been blundering in the wrong direction) and had given up, attempting to retrace his footsteps that were being quickly covered. Actually, he was steadily realising that he was in a smidgen of trouble when he heard displaced air _whoosh_ above his head.

"LATVIA! GET DOWN!"

The boy was riding a flying reindeer, gripping its neck with his face a mixture of concentration and elation. Lithuania was rapidly reassessing what was real and what was a fairy-tale in his head, seeing the fragile nation loop-the-loop and hearing his bell-like laughter ring out.

_Dieves he is going to fall he will break his neck he will shatter into a million pieces I saw Russia after he dove out of that plane and he is a strong nation dieves dieves dieves!_

"RAIVIS! RAIVIS GALANTE! FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF!"

As soon as he realised the magic, climbing on Rudi had been almost irresistible. It was one of the most amazing things he's ever done, spinning, galloping and just soaring through the air, faster and faster, guided only by instinct and the red nose. He'd been fine, but Lithuania's terrified shout suddenly made Latvia doubt his ability. His usual shakes set in, and he began to panic, losing faith in the magic. Rudi picked up on it, and it affected him too, draining his power as he hurtled downwards.

"LATVIA!" Russia and Estonia, who'd been watching boy and reindeer gallop across the sky, saw the dip as they fell out of control and dropped from view. "OH PASK, LATVIA-A!"

"I am hoping they are both all right!" Russia put his head in his hands a moment, and then resurfaced full of authority. "Where is Toris? Oh yes, missing. _You'll_ have to get the first aid kit, Eduard – quickly, you know where it is. And the torch from under the sink, da? We should have brought it the other night, but I was caught up in the moment. Blankets, maybe get the soup. He will be in shock."

"He might be dead!" Estonia shouted – actually shouted – right back at Russia.

"_Nyet. _Nations can stand a lot. And the snow will have broken his fall. Go and get the things!"

He obeyed, racing back to the house, crutches and limp forgotten.

_I thought as much,_ Russia noticed, but he just said: "Don't answer me back, Eduard!"

Finland climbed out of the Sweden's shiny Volvo, stumbling through what was really a growing blizzard. "Don't let go of my hand!" he told his partner, gripping the huge glove for comfort more than anything. "Ah, how will we find anything in this?"

"We c'd wait in the c'r…" Sweden started, but Finland was tugging on his arm.

"HEY! TORIS? Is that you?"

"Tino! Berwald!" Lithuania came running over, wrapping Finland in a hug and nodding to Sweden respectfully. "Are you visiting Estonia? Mr. Russia never told us-"

"Actually, m'wife's looking f'r a reindeer."

"Dieves! Oh, of c-course!" the young man suddenly looked close to tears. "I forgot for a m-m-moment. L-Latvija was riding one-"

"Latvia! Riding? As in… flying?"

"Yes! A-and he lost c-control…"

"PASKA!"

Russia was running, his coat billowing out behind him- Alfred would've said he looked like a superhero. A vodka-holding superhero. Estonia lagged behind, carrying the first aid kit and the fluffy hat that Latvia hadn't bothered putting on. _Please be okay; please be okay!_

"The second time this month one of you has fallen." The big nation turned behind him to call. "You must be more careful: it will be Lithuania next… Can you not keep up?"

Estonia shook his head, leaning over with a stitch and trying to catch his breath. A moment later, Russia had scooped him over his shoulder like a rag doll.

_Well, it's better than being dragged, _Estonia thought. _But I'm still getting that tattoo…_

The two groups of nations found Latvia almost at the same time.

"See? He is fine. The snow has broken his fall."

The small nation was very white. He did not look fine.

"Latvia! Are you okay! Do you know who I am?" Lithuania crouched next to the ice cold nation, feeling his eyes swell with tears. Next to him, Finland was embracing a very dazzled looking (but conscious and standing) reindeer.

Raivis blinked, confused to see everyone gathered around him, and hugging him? Even Estonia was hugging him, and Esty was _not_ a hugging person.

"Na ir na! He's awake!"

"I'm fine! Is th-the…" he pointed to Rudi.

"The reindeer all right? Yes, no thanks to you," Tino snapped. "That was really dangerous, Latvia!"

Lithuania stopped hugging him, wrapped him in a blanket and then joined Tino in scolding. "You have to remember that if you get hurt, so does your whole country."

"It's undeniably selfish," Eduard put his two-kopecks worth in, conveniently forgetting the fact that a couple of weeks ago he'd been the one falling in a stupid way.

"Have some vodka for the shock," Russia handed over the bottle, surprised at Finland's disapproving glance. "What? He's fifty-odd, nation-wise."

"Then m'be he sh'd act it," Sweden said, poking Latvia with his toe. "St'ling Tino's reindeer – wh't were you thinking?"

"K-Ko-?" Raivis got to his feet shakily. "N-No, I d-didn't steal anything! I've n-not left R-R-Russia for ages! I j-just f-found him…"

"It's true, Sweden. I borrowed him for a while. Now you may have him back, if Raivis has finished riding him."

"I-I d-definitely have."

The two visiting nations looked both shocked and irritated, but they also didn't want to aggravate Russia. Finland nodded with a slightly sarcastic "Thanks a lot."

"You're very welcome." Russia ruffled his hair, missing the sarcasm entirely. "He is so _cute_, isn't he, Sweden? That is why I keep them around – they're so funny."

Sweden just grunted, refusing the offer of a drink to head back to the Volvo.

"Be sure to come for Ch-Christmas!" Lithuania called, waving frantically. Maybe they'd manage to put every nation off by the 25th?

"I can't believe you didn't stand up to him, Swe! He might keep the Baltics around like little pets, but I'm not like that to you! You didn't even argue with him. He ruffled my hair, Swe! Only you ruffle my hair…"

Sweden listened to Finland babble on, wrapping an arm around him and steering him towards the car. It was only when they approached he realised something.

"Um, how're we g'nna get the reindeer h'me?"

"He can go in your back seat, right?"

Sweden looked despairingly at his beautiful Volvo, with the expensive, upholstered burgundy seats. He then turned to look at the reindeer, who had chosen that moment to go to the toilet again.

"Mr. Swe?" Finland unleashed the puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh, f'n, f'n!" Sweden growled, opening the back door and helping to lever the animal in. "But turn its nose off, _för Guds skull_: it'll distract me in the windscr'n."

"Thank you!" the smaller nation grinned, muttering a word in the reindeer's ear and leaping into the front seat.

Sweden sighed. Anything for his Tino.

**It's short, and the ending is terrible, I know. It was a lot longer, but the second part really didn't fit with the rest of the story, so I've put it in a separate chapter. I don't like the last paragraph of this, either… maybe I'll delete it? *deletes it*.**

**I'll be honest: I really hate this reindeer idea! I don't think it fits so well, and I'm kind of deviating from the point… Anyway, next chapter gets seriously Christmas based!**

**~I picked Romania and England because Hellfire Club!**

**~As to whether Esty will get a tattoo… SPOILERS!**

**~Groooooovy – I don't know where he got that. Sealand, perhaps?**

_**~Ko**_** – Latvian, what**

_**~för Guds skull –**_** Swedish, for God's sake! That is so Sweden though, look at it!**

**~Some Rudolph trivia: he was invented in 1939 in America as part of a marketing campaign for Montgomery Ward. A chap called Robert L. May invented him, and almost ten years later his brother-in-law Johnny Marks made up the song. However, as an employee of Montgomery Ward, May had no legal claim to the story. By 1947 he was widowed and had huge debts because of his wife's terminal illness, but the president of the company signed over 100 percent of the Rudolph copyright to May and he lived comfortably on the royalties for the rest of his life.  
>Heartwarming, huh?<strong>

**The weather's looking beautiful now. I might actually leave the house...**

**Haha no.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Waiting For The Family

**Chapter Nine – Waiting For The Family To Arrive**

**Hopefully this will turn out better than Chapter Eight. Read and review or I'll be blue (rhyme!)**

**Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you enjoyed it Whilst I hated writing reindeer, I **_**loved**_** writing SuFin!**  
><strong>Hello, new follower! *waves like weirdo*<strong>

**Short AN is actually short!**

**(The end is ridiculously long instead)**

24th December, 1963. 4PM

Russia had a headache, and that wasn't good. Lithuania suspected it was because 'the family' (the rest of the USSR and their allies) were coming for a pre-Christmas dinner party, and staying overnight until the main party on Christmas Day. This meant Prussia and Belarus, and that meant migraines, which ultimately led to taking it out on the Baltics. Therefore, they decided to keep quiet with cooking and writing Christmas cards in the kitchen: first in Russian, then underneath a translation into whatever language those countries had.

"It's a goodwill gesture," Lithuania explained to a grumbling Latvia (who still couldn't write properly in Russian, never mind every other language under the sun). "We need more nations on our side. Now stop whining and cop on to yourself, or I'll take a picture of that scowl."

"_Cop on to yourself?_ Have you been spending time with Ireland?" Estonia teased, chopping up the carrots irregularly.

"We should have d-done this w-weeks ago. How'd you spell Ar-Argentina?"

"You're still only on A?"

"A-r! And it's d-difficult! Wh-Why don't y-you come and d-do it: you're the sm-smart one."

Estonia shrugged and went to go and help, but Lithuania poked him. "BecauseMr. Russia wants you especially to practice, Raivis!"

"Unnnnh!" Raivis lay his head down on the table in despair, almost knocking the bottle of ink over Argentina's card. "I-It's n-not like I've ever even m-met the g-guy."

He heard the camera shutter click, and looked up to see a grinning Lithuania. "I told you I would if you didn't sit up and get those cards done!"

"H-Hey! N-Not fair! I wasn't r-ready! The ph-photo on these is b-bad enough."

The cards showed an anxious Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania sat next to Moldova, Belarus and Ukraine, all feeling awkward in their uniforms. The central Asian countries looked more comfortable: Georgia even had her legs crossed and her tongue sticking out. Behind them Russia had been made to look much bigger than usual, waving at the camera. At the top of the card were the words: "Happy Holidays from the Soviet Union!" in red lettering.

Estonia had printed about two hundred.

"I-I m-mean, l-look at my h-hair! It's all gr-greasy!"

"Dieves, Latvija; you're so vain!" Lithuania laughed, stirring his trademark vegetable soup. Estonia poured his carrots in sheepishly. "And Esty, it looks like you cut these with a hacksaw!"

"Why don't we swap jobs then?!" Eduard and Raivis said in exasperated unison.

"Because Mr. Russia says so! Will you two just stop whining? It's like looking after little kids."

The room fell silent. Latvia began to sing as he worked, Lithuania pushed his fringe out of his eyes and Estonia wiped his glasses. Ordinary habits.

Despite all of this, there was a tangible tinge of Christmas Eve excitement in the air, which probably led to the Baltics acting really quite immature.

"What's that you're singing? Not the Beatles _again_."

"Maybe," Raivis blushed, and then continued his song in English. "_Do you want to know a secret… do da do…"_

"It's always that one!" Toris chuckled, turning round to where Latvia was writing _Liebe Österreich _in slow, curvaceous letters. "Got any… special meaning, I wonder?"

"Sh-shut up, Toris!"

"Aw, leave him alone, he's in love!" Estonia joked.

"It's not f-funny, al-alright! L-Lithuania, you n-n-never get to s-see Poland, s-so you should know b-better! And j-just b-because Esty's n-never loved an-an-anybody!"

Lithuania shrugged and nodded, smiling slightly just to himself – _if only they knew._  
>Eduard, however, looked quite upset.<br>"Who are you to say I've never loved anybody? Just so you know, I had a relationship with Czecha when I first became independent, but it didn't last, her brother's so clingy… and before that, Finland and I lived together at Denmark's for a while, but he wasn't interested. I did everything I could to be like him, to impress him, but he just saw me as a best friend. You have no _idea_ how unrequited love feels, Latvia! So shut UP!

"Okay! O-Okay! If you c-can't t-take it, d-don't give it!" Raivis put his hands up, then went back to writing Austria's card.

"I could say the same to you!" the other nation replied, cleaning the countertops.

Peace again in Russia's kitchen, apart from Estonia sniffing every now and then in a hurt manner and muttering things like; "Did you see him the other day? Bastard didn't even look at me."

There was a knock on the door.

"What! Already?!"

"I'll b-bet it's B-Belarus," Latvia moaned.

"Get the key off Russia then."

"R-Remember what h-happened l-last time I opened the d-door? I'm sc-scarred for l-life. You get it."

"I'm on crutches!"

"Everyone kn-knows you're f-faking, even Mr. R-R-Russia."

"Um, excuse me, I fell out of a tree!"

"W-Well I f-fell off a r-reindeer!"

Lithuania smacked them both round the back of the head and went to Russia's room himself. "If you're going to act like children, I'll treat you like children!" he called down the hall.

"Fine, goody-goody!" they shouted back.

Toris looked through the peephole to see a yawning Cuba, scratching his dreads. "Hey! _Hola Lituania_! Long-time, no see, man! It's freezin' out here: open up!"

"It's your own fault for coming to Russia in shorts and sandals, Juan!" Lithuania laughed. "Wait just a moment, I have to go get the key."

"Ivan as crazy overprotective as ever?"

"Afraid so." The eldest Baltic sighed, leaving the door and heading up the stairs. Russia's room was on the second floor, and he knocked gently.

"Mr. R-Russia? _Kuba's_ here: I need to open the door. And you should probably come down…"

There was a groan, and Russia stomped out. His aura was bad, and he looked ill.

"A-Are you all right?"

"Da. There you go. I'll be down in a minute, I just… need a minute."

Lithuania looked at him carefully. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"DA! Just get downstairs, Toris!"

He did, almost tripping in his hurry to get away. Letting Cuba in, he moved his hair back again, trying not to shake.

"Chill, man." Cuba said gently, his accented voice speaking of syrup and music. "Have a smoke."

The cigar made him cough, but Lithuania did, leading him into the kitchen where the younger Baltics were still arguing.

"Stop that! We're the Baltic Trio, remember? We shouldn't fight!"

Estonia shrugged, letting go of Latvia's hair and trying to regain some dignity in front of the Central American. "_Privet, Kuuba_."

"_Hola, Estonia, Letonia_!" Cuba said, his chocolate eyes laughing at them.

"Want a drink?" Lithuania was bustling about, trying to make the place look tidier and worrying about Russia. If he was this anxious about facing the countries who were on his side, how was he going to manage the Western nations?

"Sure. No nasty vodka, though."

The doorbell rang, and was accompanied by frenzied knocking and shouting.

Eduard got up, and went to welcome in more chaos.

Prussia shoved past Estonia and ran into the hall, yelling about how insane Belarus was and how she should be locked up in an asylum (Estonia secretly agreed).

Belarus flounced by, pointing a knife at his neck before deciding he was no threat and going back to winding up Prussia.

Poland had planted a kiss on his cheek, before running into the kitchen and jumping into Lithuania's arms. The two had both cried, and Latvia had found it sweet – though he made gagging noises.

Georgia and Vietnam had come together, giggling and leaving Estonia completely in awe of their hair-swishing smiles.

The other nations turned up gradually, piling him up with coats and vodka bottles; cards and kisses. The Stans, with their turbans and whiff of exotic spices… Ukraine and Hungary, already quite drunk and ranting about feminism and the uselessness of men – they glared at Estonia so forcefully that he felt he was the blame for everything men had ever done… Czecha and Slovakia, the girl-and-boy twins who were inseparable yet arguing already… Moldova, Romania and all the other eastern countries that Latvia had dubbed "the creepy ones"; countries with glowing eyes and eccentric ideas. Estonia liked them, particularly Moldova, but he found Armenia intimidating…

_Fun with all the family…_

"Eduard? Is Albania coming?" Armenia himself asked, standing ever so slightly too close.

"Um… w-we don't mention him round here anymore…"

After a large amount of quarrelling, the countries were strategically seated at the table in the over-formal dining room that they rarely had cause to use. There were so many nations and as usual, not enough chairs, so Latvia found himself sat on his desk stool too low from the table.

One more knock on the door filtered through, just as they'd all settled down. Estonia looked devastated, having snagged himself a spot by Vietnam and hopelessly trying to chat her up; and Latvia was deep in conversation with Kyrgyzstan and was pretending not to hear, so Lithuania left his soup simmering on the hob and went to get it.

Glancing through the peephole, he saw nothing, and suspecting a prank, he opened the door gently.

"Good evening, Mr. Lithuania!" the figure said, in clear, enunciated Queen's English. "Jolly nice out, isn't it?"

'**What is this!' I hear you cry. 'B has yet again failed to finish properly, and left us with a cliffhanger! She's also added in too many countries, many of which are OC's, and not even got on to the party!'**

**Ah, there is hope, readers… I'll carry on next chapter with a proper story, instead of just introducing everybody.**

**As well, why are Esty and Latvia arguing? That's not right! Ah, but Christmas excitement excuses it.**

**~ "Cop on to yourself" is a phrase often used in our house – meaning 'deal with it.'**

_**Leibe Österreich **_**– German, Dear Austria**

**~Finland and Estonia are very close, and are described as being best friends. I think Estonia's probably straight (if his current crush on Vietnam is anything to go by) but just really likes Finland… and I realised that they hadn't even spoken in the last chapter! Relations between him and the Czech Republic are also good.**

**~In 1961 the USSR and China/Albania had a big falling-out. They don't talk about him…**

**~There are loads and loads of nations to mention, so I'm not going to put them all in the story. But if you're curious, here's the family (if not just skip): **  
><strong>Bulgaria, Cuba, Czechoslovakia, East Germany (Prussia), Hungary, Mongolia, Poland; Romania and Vietnam, who were members of all sorts of Communist pacts set up by the USSR.<strong>  
><strong>Belarus, Ukraine, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Moldova, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Armenia and Tajikistan were all in the USSR (they'd be on the Christmas cards).<strong>

**This is all very educational. I know a whole lot more about the USSR than I used to, anyway. Now if I could just stop writing them Hetalia-style, I might get more than a C in my history projects…**

**If any of this is total rubbish, tell me and I'll apologetically edit.**

***realises that the vast majority of this story is probably made up of these notes***


	10. Chapter Ten: Step Into Christmas

**Chapter Ten: Step Into Christmas**

**Thanks so much for following/reviewing/favouriting/reading *gives everybody food as I have finally restocked my virtual fridge*!**  
><strong>Plus I don't know about you, but I REALLY want one of those Christmas cards.<strong>  
><strong>Also, I keep thinking about CubaxLithuania… is that even a ship? NONONO, CubaxCanada, PolandxLiet! That's how it's supposed to be! *cough*<strong>

**The end of the last chapter was slightly dedicated to me when we have the family over – there are too many of us and I always end up on a stool or box or something…**

**I only just realised that Sealand hadn't been founded yet in 1963!**  
><strong>*screams, considers deleting entire story and going to join Belarus at asylum*<strong>  
><strong>*relaxes, because we're on Chapter Ten now and it doesn't matter: the naval base was still there. We're going with it, because SeaLat fluff will be written and Peter and Raivis don't care about history anymore*<strong>

**I think there's a little more swearing than normal in these chapters, but nothing worth a rating change. Just in case you're incredibly easily shocked.**

**Hi new followers! Sorry about the general chaos…**  
><strong>And remember – DON'T MENTION ALBANIA!<strong>

**24****th**** December, 1963. Around 7:15PM**

"Oh, _privet_, Peter! I thought you were North Korea, but of course he never comes to these family functions…"

The young micro-nation grinned broadly, sweeping his hat off his head and holding it behind his back. "The sovereign state of Sealand wishes to ally itself with the Soviet Union," he announced grandly.

"…The sovereign state of Sealand is now talking about itself in the third person?"

"Indeed it is," Peter said, grave-faced. Then, on his tiptoes (Lithuania still had to duck) he whispered into Toris's ear: "Dad said that unless I behave and be all polite and posh and not 'like a ruddy little cockney', Finland won't give me any presents. He keeps going on and on at me about manners and how I'm going to end up like another America and I really NEED 'Please, Please Me' and 'With the Beatles' on record so…"

Even though he was slightly relieved that Sealand was back to his normal, babbling self, Lithuania tuned him out: he always felt that the bouncy lad was way, _way_ too enthusiastic.

"Who's there?" Armenia called from the dining room. "Is that you, Albania?"

"DON'T MENTION ALBANIA!"

"Do you want to step in for some food, then? Raivis will be pleased to see you." Toris interrupted Sealand's spiel on vinyl to ask: "And won't Mr England be annoyed about you allying against him? I thought he was with America on the Cold War."

"Oh, food sounds grand, thank you," Sealand looked up at the long-haired nation earnestly. "I've been at Jerk Dad's all weekend, so I had to keep hiding dinner in plant pots or feeding it to the cats... who got sick. Anyway, he'll never know I'm allied with you – Uncle Ireland gave me a lift here, and he hates Dad, so he won't tell. And Dad only notices me if I'm around him making noise, and then he calls me Alfred…"

Lithuania nodded, this time sympathetically. He'd had dinner at England's at least a decade ago, but it was an experience he'd never forget.

"Everyone, Sealand's here!"

Latvia almost shrieked, flying from his stool as the two of them ran to each other, greeting one another in the way they always did:

"You've grown!"

"You've shrunk!"

Sea grabbed him in an unashamed hug. "Good evening everybody!" he waved, but most of them either didn't know who he was or weren't recognising him on purpose, so few said hi back.

"_Privet_, Sealandia!" Russia got up and ruffled his hair jovially, and Peter tried not to flinch. "So you've been thinking about becoming one with us?"

"U-um, no thank you, sir; I mean I'm groovy as I am. Independent. But, I mean, the Warsaw Pact sounds kind of cool…"

"Don't you want power for your people? Your workers, united with ours?" Russia's gaze was getting quite intense.

"Let _el muchacho _have dinner before you start selling him communism, Ivan," Cuba laughed. He was probably the only nation there who could call him that, other than Ukraine and Belarus... and Romania, in a particularly powerful mood.  
>The big nation shrugged. He was fond of Sealand, recognising his lust for strength and power in his own chibi self.<p>

Sealand found a box and placed it between Kyrgyzstan and Latvia, quizzing the interesting-sounding nation relentlessly and trying to say Kyrgyzstan until he was told to shut up. (He settled with calling him Kyr-stan_,_ although the poor mispronounced nation just begged Peter to call him 'Hamid' like all the others did).  
>He spent the next ten minutes high on 'I'm here with Latvia!' excitement; giggling, pulling faces and asking Hungary if she felt hungry. This last question nearly got him skinned, and Raivis begged him to sit still and be quiet before someone got really violent.<p>

"Dinner's ready, losers!" Poland yelled, swishing his ponytail and helping Lithuania cart the vat of soup from the kitchen. "Made entirely by this, like, totally amazing guy. Oh, with Estonia's carrots."

They dumped it on the middle of the table. Toris turned off all the lights as if it were a birthday cake, lighting the large candles and switching on the Christmas bulbs. Latvia ran to fetch the drinks – wines, vodka, and orange juice for the countries that didn't drink alcohol. Whilst Prussia, Hungary and a few others thought it would be hilarious to get Sealand drunk, Lithuania protested because 'Arthur will go berserk enough already'. The discussion was pointless anyway, as Gilbert helped Peter spike the jug of orange juice with a whole bottle of vodka when no-one was looking.

"So, before we eat, a toast." Russia stood up on his rickety chair, which he didn't really need to do considering his height, but it made him feel more imposing. "I know we're not all Christmas celebrators, but it's a time for peace and family, da? So all of us here, allies in Communism-"

"Not all by choice, you unawesome asses!" Prussia interrupted, sitting with his feet on the table and winding up Mongolia by poking him every five seconds.

"ALLIES IN COMMUNISM…kolkolkolkol."

Prussia gulped, taking his feet off the table.

"To another year, defending our values, sticking together-"

"To having all our power taken away by you," Uzbekistan mocked – safely under his breath.

"To standing as one, united group against Capitalist pigs-"

"To pissing off América!" Cuba cried, cutting the speech short and raising his glass in the air as did everybody else. Russia gave up, sitting back down and helping himself to the food.

"_Vau_, Toris: you certainly can cook!" Belarus looked over at the nation with a little more respect than usual in her eyes, simpering slightly as she pulled at her bow. He blushed furiously, but Poland put a protective arm over his shoulders.

"She'll only ever hurt you, Liet," he murmured in a sing-song voice, soft lips brushing Lithuania's ear.

"And you won't?" Toris bit back, but with little venom.

Further up the table, Hamid was now crossly trying to ignore Peter and Raivis, who were talking earnestly about music and the world and drawing and all the things they wanted to do when they were large and independent.

"I w-want to – paint your place bright blue."

"Blue? Why blue, Lat? It's on the sea: it wouldn't show up very well."

"Brings out your eyes," Latvia had attempted to be a bit romantic, but he just ended up getting all shaky when he heard Hamid snort with laughter. "N-never mind, f-forget I s-said that, it's st-st-stupid! G-g-go yellow, then. S-sunshine colour."

"Nice. Or we could paint it pink?"

"Ev-everyone will th-think you've b-been invaded by Poland."

"Good point."

"_Kesesese!_" Prussia said to himself, scrawling things down in his leather-bound diary. He was supposed to be writing proper notes for West on the Soviet activities, but when did he ever do what West told him to?

_19:36 – Zis is SO LANGWEILIG! Nobody here is awesome. Ukraine keeps giving me the evil eye, and Hungary is vinking at me for some reason... Mongolia's moved about a foot avay from me, but I can still poke him because my arms are awesomely long. Vait a minute…_

_19:38 - I just poked Mongolia, and he's lost it and gone crying to Cuba __**again**_._ He just finds it funny; zat guy actually is pretty awesome (not as much as me of course, but more than zese other asses)!_ _Vietnam's given him a hug –Estonia guy looks devastated…KESESESE!_

_19:41 – Bulgaria is on my left and vants me to point out that he is also awesome (he's not)_

At this point, Bulgaria stole Prussia's pen, levitating it gently by a few amused nations and into Romania's waiting hand. Gilbert shrieked rather pathetically and dived under the table, a moment Lithuania once again caught on the Zorki (Hungary offered to pay a thousand roubles for a copy).

Estonia had been, at least in his own opinion, doing quite well with Vietnam. Actually, he'd sort-of – kind-of – asked her to go out to dinner with him – maybe, and she'd laughed and said she'd think about it. Her laugh was very pretty, like smashing glass shards but without the sting. Of course, until she threw her arms around that snivelling Mongolia!  
>Miserably, Eduard took a long sip of his drink and closed his eyes. Perhaps he was really still pining for Finland, but he felt that his affections had been spurned yet again. He realised that he'd never be in the same league as those independent nations, and decided to go and drink his sorrows away with his friend Moldova when dinner was finished.<p>

Tension began to build all around the table – the Stans were arguing about borders, Russia was kolkolkol-ing at a weeping Azerbaijan, and Georgia kept insulting people's fashion sense - as they should have known it would. However, they actually managed to get through dinner and desert without any serious incidents (apart from Czecha throwing her plate at her brother's head and storming upstairs, bawling "YOU'VE RUINED CHRISTMAS, _TY KRETÉNE!",_ but this was just an ordinary occurrence with the siblings.)

"U-um, L-Lithuania, can we b-be excused?" Latvia asked innocently, crossing his fingers behind his back. The older Baltic, with Poland's head resting on his shoulder, responded rather sleepily:  
>"Sure you can, <em>Latvija…<em> hang on, wait!"

Sealand and Latvia had sprinted upstairs, cheering: they didn't have to wash the dishes.

"Make sure you finish those Christmas cards!" Lithuania called after them pointlessly.

"Aw, like, Liet; give the little lovebirds a rest! Remember what we were like at that age…"

Lithuania did, went a very funny colour, dislodged himself from Poland and rushed from the room. "LATVIJA! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

**Hehe, well, this seems a good place to end a chapter. I know I have been updating fairly constantly, but this will change pretty soon unfortunately – next chapters possibly on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I've got some stuff coming up (I'd rather stay home and write Hetalia, but I suppose I have to leave the house sometimes…)**

**Comments and criticisms greatly appreciated. Now for more long explanations…**

**~North Korea's always been very secluded – he supported Russia in communism but didn't take part in the Warsaw Pact or anything. Maybe if it was nowadays he'd Skype in?**

**~Please, Please Me and With the Beatles were the first and second Beatles albums, released in 1963. Sealand's only got a few singles, but if he's really good…**  
><strong>By the way, I know a bit about vinyl because my dad's obsessed, but I won't bore you with it. Unless you PM me specifically wanting to talk about it. Which no offence vinyl enthusiasts, that's kind of odd. But I don't mind.<strong>

**~Armenia's random obsession with Albania? I don't even know.**

**~Iggy's poor food poisoned cats though…**

**~The Warsaw Pact is one of the pacts that a lot of these countries (Poland, Hungary etc) were in.**

_**el muchacho**_** – Spanish, the boy. Cuba's cool, isn't he?! He gets away with literally anything. I love Cuba.**

**~Poor Kyrgyzstan! (I've finally worked out how to spell it!) Hamid is a popular Kyrgyz name meaning 'adventurous', apparently.  
><strong>

**~ HUNGARY WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT HUNGRY/HUNGARY JOKES ARE INFANTILE AND NOT EVEN RELEVANT, SINCE THOSE TWO WORDS IN HER LANGUAGE ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT ANYWAY. SHE HAS KICKED THE KIRKLAND'S SORRY ARSES SEVERAL TIMES OVER SUCH JOKES. DON'T PUSH IT.**

_**Vau**_** – Belorussian, wow**

_**Langweilig –**_** German, boring. And I know Prussia wouldn't write in his accent… but ve vanted you to read it zat vay!**

**~I had Prussia bullying Mongolia, then read his character notes and realised he used to be really strong and even picked on China and Russia! Sorry Mongolia, I've made you weak. Sorry.**

**~Bulgaria is now magic too! (But only a little)**

**~Sorry about all the random OCish details I've shoved in.**

**~Czechoslovakia never got along very well…**  
><em><strong>TY KRETÉNE! <strong>_**– Czech, you arsehole**

**Bye!**

**(And oh damn: just as I was about to publish, my internet connection has gone and died. I bloody hate living in a valley…)**


	11. Chapter Eleven: We're Here Tonight

**Chapter Eleven – We're Here Tonight, And That's Enough **

**Hello again… Here I am, carrying on again, and I've made pancakes! So sharing them out with you guys as a thanks for following/favouriting/reviewing/reading! So many reviews this time, I felt all sparkly! Canada's giving you some maple syrup to go with your pancakes… wait, who gave you this syrup?**

**This chapter will make less sense if you've never played Cluedo… I'm sorry okay!**

**By the way, these are getting silly long again, so I'm actually going to shut up. Also, Moldova is a bit older than he is in canon (but I couldn't really find that much about him?)… I'd say seventeen.**

**Warning: a very OOC drunk Estonia.**

**_EDIT_ GUESTS GUESTS GUESTS! I didn't say hi! How horribly rude is that?**

**First review - I still love the Hellfire Club, although they're total nerds :) SO AWESOME!  
>Second review - Nah, thank you for reviewing! And he was a bit grumpy that chapter...<br>Third review - I NEED MORE TINSEL RUSSIA! I'm going to write it soon...  
>As well, hey new guys!<strong>

**24th December, 1963. Nearly 11:30 PM**

Latvia and Sealand hung their stockings up over the fireplace in the library. It was peaceful at first, as the only ones in there were a heavily drinking Moldova and Estonia. Every now and then, though, the latter would say something about "heartbreak" and "I loved her, Constantin!" and even later, "Tino never wanted me!" until the two younger nations got fed up of his drama and journeyed to the third floor and the Baltics' bedroom. They'd left some rum out for Finland (Peter's tradition), but Latvia secretly doubted it would last with Estonia in this kind of mood.

"Um, if you've got so many rooms in this house, why do you guys share?" Sealand asked, simultaneously bouncing on Latvia's bed and admiring his friend's magazine cut-outs and sketches that dotted the wall.

"H-hey, you'll wreck the springs! Well, d-different nations stay over a l-lot. But w-we're all in here b-because…"  
>Latvia stopped, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sealand gave up on bouncing and joined him – normally the small Baltic was incredibly private, but once they'd both got a little intoxicated he knew how to get proper answers out of Raivis.<p>

Pestering.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?" he started, "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"

"Sh-shh!" Latvia punched him in the arm. "You're w-worse than Pr-Prussia! I-I have n-n-nightmares, all r-right? An-and it means l-less doors w-with locks."

"Locks?"

"Mr. R-R-Russia locks us in."

"Oh my God!" Peter looked horrified. "That's awful!"

"It's r-really not th-that bad," the other boy tried to explain. "He's j-just p-p-paranoid. And we used to r-run a lot – look, I d-don't want to t-talk about this."

"Okay, we won't," Sealand lied blatantly. "So you said you had nightmares?"

"Unnnhh…"

Downstairs, they could hear the echoes of a drinking game – who could down a pint glass of vodka the quickest, with several knockout stages and a final. (It was a good thing they were nations and not ordinary people: I do not encourage any humans to try this. I mean, that stuff has got 40% pure alcohol in it...)  
>The final starred Russia and Ukraine – who was probably the best - but for the sake of the Soviet Union she let Russia win. After that, the countries that were still there or fairly coherent moved onto Cluedo, a game Sealand had brought and left 'abandoned' under the tree in the hallway. It was actually Latvia's Christmas present, but the other nations didn't really stop to think about that.<p>

"What you gotta do," Estonia mumbled, squinting at the instructions – he had no idea what had happened to his glasses, or even clearly remembered how he and Moldova had re-joined the other nations. "Is work out… who murdered Mr. Black. We each gotta _be_ a character, and there's four, nah, five. We'll go in teams of two, all right?"

Lithuania took over, having been careful and not particularly drunk yet (although he was drinking the spiked orange juice by the gallon). "Okay, Eduard: you and Moldova can be Professor Plum; Pol and I will be Mrs Peacock-"

"Of course," Poland put in.

"Hey, Ivan and I call Colonel Mustard, yeah?" Cuba moved his chair over to Russia, who was still pleased with himself over the false vodka victory.

"Bulgaria and I will be taking Mrs White," Romania said, ignoring the fact that Bulgaria was out in the kitchen puking.

Prussia wanted to take Miss Scarlet, but seen as most of the nations had drank and eaten themselves unconscious, drifted off to bed or (in the case of Czecha and Slovakia) were trying to kill each other; this meant nobody would be his partner. In the end, Belarus agreed to play on Prussia's team, on the condition that if they won, Russia would have to kiss her.

"Cuba, we must not let them win," Russia whispered frantically in the dreadlocked nation's ear. "Or… or…"

"Don't worry, man, we can do it. Trust me, it'll work out…"

Raivis and Peter were holding hands. The former was feeling particularly awkward because he knew his were usually clammy (he'd tried to hold Georgia's once, and she'd practically recoiled), but Sealand seemed to be pretty cool about it. Peter's hands were small, and calloused, and a little dry, like paper.

"D-did you bring any of your s-singles? I've got the gramophone somewhere..."

"Yes, but don't cut away from the point! Nightmares!"

"…they're usually ab-about the w-w-war…" he paused again, closing his eyes, choosing his words with care. "Th-they w-w-wanted information. And I w-wasn't going to s-say anything."

Sealand felt a little sick. "T-torture?"

"H-hardly," Latvia pretended to shrug it off with a very forced laugh. "I g-gave in pretty easily. N-not… n-not like I saw Lithuania or Poland or even E-Esty afterwards…"

There was silence for a moment.  
>"It is s-something you should know, r-really, as you're st-staying over: sometimes I sc-scream quite a l-lot. And sometimes, I b-b-barricade the d-door. In my sleep."<br>His eyes were swelling with salt water, and he quickly blinked the tears away, feeling like an idiot who'd ruined his chances forever.  
><em>I'm such a coward and now he knows…<em>

"Are your dreams… always like that?"

Latvia shrugged, in a way that said that was all he was going to disclose tonight. "S-sea, can I ask you s-something?"

Considering Peter had pretty intrusive with his questioning in the last five minutes, he had no right to refuse. "Sure, Lat."

"Wh-what scares you the most?"

"…you make a deduction, for example: 'I declare that it was Colonel Mustard, in the dining room, with the lead piping'…"

"_Kesesese!_ Sounds about right!" Prussia cut in, snickering until Belarus clawed him in the face. "Ow, crazy bitch!"

"Don't disrespect big brother, _East! _You'll be next in the dining room with the lead piping!"

"…and then if someone has those matching cards, like say we had 'lead piping'…"

"I have all the lead piping around here, Toris," Russia interrupted, taking Mr. Pipe from his jacket and waving it around: he hadn't been listening prior to that point. Poland rolled his eyes so hard Lithuania thought they would get stuck inside his head.

"Stop saying lead piping!"

"Lead piping, lead piping, lead piping!"

"Aw, this game sounds, _hic_, too complicated…" Moldova complained drowsily. "I mean, who's being Mr. Black?"

"Mr. Black is dead! We don't need a Mr. Black, Constantin, for the millionth time!" Lithuania was sick of reading the instructions. "Someone else finish?"

Romania had the paper in a flash. I mean, a literal flash. There was an explosion, and some smoke.

"Shhhow orff," Estonia slurred, wishing he had his glasses to polish.

"What scares me the most? Um… probably disappearing. I mean, so few people recognise me or notice I'm there, I worry that someday the whole world will just forget I exist, and I'll be an ex-nation and just… fade."

"Oh, _Peter,_" Raivis gave him a hug. "I'd n-never forget about you!"

"Don't tell anyone, right?"

Latvia gazed at him. "N-not if you don't tell about me."

The two boys looked at each other, grinning sheepishly as they went through their incredibly fast secret hand rhyme. They went to get sleeping bags from the airing cupboard, settling down with them against the radiator. The tired old gramophone had been lifted from the ballroom, and at last, Do You Want To Know A Secret was playing in the background.

_This is it, Lat. This is the moment. Aw, why does my breath smell of wine and stew? Ugh. No, focus. Should I kiss him? What if he doesn't feel the same way? I'll have ruined this forever, ak dieves what should I do? Poland would say go for it. Lithuania would say don't. Oh dear, oh-_

Sealand's hair was fluffed up and needed cutting – his fringe was a little too long. He kissed Latvia on the cheek, and then rolled over completely embarrassed and immediately pretended to be sleeping. Raivis had no idea what this meant, but Peter was a stubborn asshole and wouldn't stop fake snoring. He settled for them grasping hands, tight.

_It's okay. We're here, and that's enough._

"One final rule – incorrect deduction, have a drink." Cuba grinned, leaning back in his chair. These nations were so easy to get inebriated.

It quickly got out of hand.

"…I declare that it was Mr. Black, with the poison, in the observatory."

"MOLDOVA!" Prussia, who'd been getting quite into the game and was possibly taking it a little too seriously, screeched. "Mr – Black – did – not – commit – suicide!"

"Ish the most plaushible explanashion…" Estonia managed, taking the drink for the team. "His heart is broken; he's looking at the constellashions they used to see together, the poison is closhe by…"

"IT'S NOT ROLE PLAY! IT'S ABOUT DEDUCTION!"

Belarus had had enough of this. "That's it: Professor Plum is disqualified! Tell them, Toris!"

Lithuania said dreamily, "Yeah, it's getting silly." He was incredibly happy, and Poland was asleep on his shoulder. "Eduard, go to bed. You're starting to sound like France."

"Constantin, it's nearly one in the morning – you go too."

Both Estonia and Moldova shrugged, helping each other to the door and wobbling their way up the stairs.

"We give up as well," Lithuania added, hoisting Poland up and carrying him out. Only teams Miss Scarlet, Colonel Mustard and Mrs White were still in serious play.

"Right…" Cuba rolled the dice and moved Colonel Mustard into the Living Room. "Um, I declare that it was Mrs Peacock, in the living room, with the candlestick… though how she managed it with a candlestick, I have no idea…

Prussia had his diary out again.

_01:03 – Zey are all so bad at zis game! I know it vas definitely Mrs Vite vith the knife in the ballroom, but crazy bitch Belarus keeps making our deductions. Gr, I'm not even as drunk as everyone else, and that is not awesome. I mean, I have a reputation to consider!_

Lithuania opened the first guest room door and tucked Poland up in bed. He seemed so cute asleep, and the nation nearly reached for the camera, but decided not to. Not fair to do that. Though he felt a bit creepy, he stood watching him sleep for a while. Finally and reluctantly, he and walked down the hall a little way, skilfully dodging nations who (like Russia often did) were napping in the middle of corridors, and making sure they all had blankets. Looking in to check on Sealand and Latvia, he found the former properly asleep now with his mouth wide open in surprisingly loud snores. They were holding hands as if nothing would ever break them apart.

"All right, Raivis?"

"Y-yeah, I think so. C-can I-"

"Of course." Lithuania took his own box of sleeping pills from the drawer and handed one over, with a bottle of something strong to wash it down with. Standard practise. No questions asked.

"You all do realise I have known who did it all along, don't you?" Romania queried eventually. The other four nations looked at him, disbelieving. "I accuse Dr. Green, with the rope, in the library."

"Dr. Green? Dr. Green is not a suspect, Romania. You are not making sense."

"I am, Mr. R-Russia. There's a missing piece, but the card is still there."

"VHAT?!" Prussia and Belarus grabbed for the tiny envelope at the same time, revealing the cards _rope, Dr. Green _and _library._ Belarus growled at Romania – her plan had been ruined yet again – and she stormed off. Prussia was yelling.

"ZAT'S NOT FAIR! IT VASN'T EVEN AN OPTION!"

"Man, that was cool. How did you do it?"

"I have The Sight, of course!" Romania said melodramatically. "For example, I know exactly what thoughts our friend Gilbert here has running through his dirty little mind-"

"NOT AWESOME! Leave me out of this!" Prussia shut up quickly and hurried away.

Russia ultimately stood up to wander off, not entirely steadily. "Well, good night, my little Baltics." He sighed, patting Cuba, Romania and a confused Bulgaria (who had just re-entered after being sick) on their heads. "Brush your teeth, or you'll get cavities."

Cuba was the first to burst out laughing - of course, when Russia was out of earshot. "Aw man, 'you'll get cavities!' cracks me up almost as much as your magic tricks, Vlad! I better go to sleep too, anyway. See you 'round!"

As the dreadlocked man ambled for the stairs, the two remaining nations heard the front door swing open with a long, drawn out _creeeaak_.

Bulgaria shuddered. "Creepy."

"It's probably Tino... but it could be the Phantom of-"

"Oi, you! No scary stories! Should we go and see 'Santa', then?"

"We don't want to get in the way, Yavor... I'm going to raid the cupboards."

They headed to the kitchen, Romania randomly craving bagels. Russia didn't have them, but he felt like trying anyway.

"What went on while I was throwing up?" Bulgaria asked, helping him search for anything sweet and bready.

"Oh, I cheated at this board game and Prussia thinks I have magical sight. Plus everyone is drunk. _I'm _a bit drunk."

Bulgaria snorted. "You don't, though, right? And I'm pretty sober now, unfortunately."

"Of course I don't, idiot. But that Teutonic Knight is so predictable. And sober? That won't do at all…"

They found Latvia's secret _lebkuchen_ stash, which had gone slightly stale, and ended up eating the lot. Nobody else is to blame for their subsequent illness...

**And my dad has Love Me Do on in the background as I write! Awww…**

**Sorry for everyone's general OOCishness, and me forgetting the Stans (pretend they're all asleep). And overusing the word 'also'. **

**Georgia hasn't even said anything yet, but I haven't written her very nice!**

**I'm not that pleased with this chapter, particularly the ending. I think I just want a bagel...**

**~ Rum for Santa! How Christmassy…**

**~ Sad Latvia backstory. I couldn't help it – all this happiness was getting on my nerves! I've written something about Latvia's nightmares, but nothing properly really… and I can imagine poor Liet taking sleeping pills…**

**~ Prussia and Belarus working together?**

**~ This ending partially came about because I kept forgetting the Cluedo characters. Also, how the hell would you kill someone with a candlestick? I always wonder this.**

**~ Again, sorry if you've not played the game… it doesn't make all that much sense, but hopefully there was enough intermittent SeaLat to keep you happy. They sort of kissed on Christmas Eve ish! Aw, they're so cute…**

**~ Constantin – My name for Moldova**  
><strong>~ Vlad – My name for Romania<br>~ Yavor - My name for Bulgaria**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Slusha The Snowman

**Chapter 12 – Slusha The Snowman**

**So, I'm finally here on Christmas (only a week and a bit after the event itself!) having probably got Bulgaria's sickness from the last chapter and feeling about as festive as… um… a Grinch? Never mind, and a belated Happy New Year everybody; thank you so much for reading, etc! Hope you all have your best year yet… I've got a feeling 2015's going to be a good one! My resolutions are to edit properly, write way more fic and stop obsessing with pastries.**

**I'll do my utmost to be done by the seventh. I think there's probably only two more chapters to go after this… and an epilogue!**

**Anyway, to the story.**

**25****th**** December, 1963. Five to six AM**

This was it.

What they'd worked and waited for.

The planning, the drama, the tinsel.

It was the twenty-fifth of December, nineteen-sixty-three.

And Eduard von Bock felt like death.

Lithuania had woken him up at five to six with a poke in the ribs. He'd jumped up in a panic, ready to defend himself (his fear of being attacked overrode his flu-like symptoms) before realising it was just the older Baltic. He slumped back down groggily, blinking.

"My heaaad, Toris... Did R-Russia finally lose it and bash my brains in with Mr. Pipe?"

He was only semi-joking.

"No: you just drank a ridiculous amount." Lithuania sounded sanctimoniously disapproving, and Estonia winced - that was usually his job.

"Where are my glasses...? Jumal küll, I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Apart from make a complete _idiotas_ of yourself? _Nyet_."

Eduard groaned, clambering to his feet. "Why do nations sober up so quickly?"

"So you can pickle your liver without causing permanent damage to your country. Or at least, that's my theory."

"I need coffee. That's my theory."

There were bodies everywhere: it reminded the two of a battlefield only with less blood. They stood accidentally on hands and faces, learning new obscenities in many different languages. As they descended the last staircase and caught sight of the gleaming piles of gifts under the (artificial) tree, a gorgeous smell hit them.

"Hey, _buenos días_, Baltics! And happy Christmas! You're the first up after the kids!"

Cuba gestured to Sealand and Latvia, who were blasting out pop songs from the kitchen counter and simultaneously finishing the Christmas cards. "They're on Portugal. Want some?"

"Juan, do you ever sleep?" asked Lithuania wearily, putting on the kettle. Usually he had to work up to this amount of cheeriness, lying waiting for the alarm and practising his smile, but Cuba pulled it off ridiculously easily.

"Have you got a hangover cure?" Estonia was desperate, clutching the sideboard like a cliff edge. "And food! You're an angel."

Taking two bowls, the dreadlocked nation flipped chunks of fried chicken omelette onto a plate for each of them. "Eat. And drink some water, man; you're the clever guy, don't you know alcohol dehydrates and shrivels the brain?" He pointed his spatula at Estonia as he lectured, as if it were an offensive weapon.

"Mr. Cuba, can we please open our presents now…"

"How many times, _muchacho_? Patience!"

"We'd better get last night's mess cleaned up for today," Estonia realised after his third cuppa. "It's a state in here."

"Agreed. But at least everyone will have help us."

"Do you want me to go wake them?" Cuba was cooking more omelette.

"_Nyet_, I'll get Mr. R-Russia to," said Lithuania, standing. "They'll listen to h-him…"

"You really can't say his name without stammering, can you."

It was a statement, not a question.

The hungover communist nations did put in a team effort. Fuelled by Cuba's breakfast and spurred on by Russia's demands, they swept, cooked, cleaned and tidied. Bottles were binned and guest rooms remade; laundry folded and snacks and drinks laid out. Latvia showed Sealand the art of banister sliding (which he couldn't exactly do on his own country) and Bulgaria kept singing his, "Today its Russia and tomorrow it's Russia" song, which pleased the big nation very much.

Again, they had to clear the front yard, shovelling the snow to the side far quicker than Toris working on his own. When they'd finished, clutching mugs of hot drinks and trying to thaw their insides, Sealand began to build a snowman.

They'd not been planning on joining in – it was freezing and they were dignified, serious nations – but he looked so cute bundled in layers of coats and mittens and struggling to even start off, they all ended up helping him. A couple of the Stans and Estonia shoved the first ball around the grounds until it got so heavy it started to rip up the grass, whilst Latvia, Moldova, Lithuania and Sealand worked on the middle. Some of the girls volunteered to make the head, but unfortunately Belarus felt the need to make it look exactly like Russia (she was actually surprisingly artistic). Ukraine produced a spare scarf out of her bag and wrapped it around "Slusha" - as he was affectionately named when he began to melt a little. Taking one of last night's numerous empty drinks from the bin, the look was finished with a vodka bottle.

"It's c-creepy," was Lithuania's final opinion, taking a picture of the snowman and it's creators standing together in the front yard. "To scale and everything. It'll keep away the burglars, at least…"

From behind him, there was a war cry.  
>Having stolen Mr. Pipe from the real Russia (as well as Estonia's glasses, one of Georgia's many pocket mirrors, a pack of Poland's nastily cheap cigarettes, Prussia's pen and Dr. Green from the Cluedo set), Hamid embedded the weapon violently into Slusha's head, before trying to kick it to pieces – he really hated the large nation, and was feeling particularly miserable.<br>Unfortunately for him, Russia had just been coming outside to admire his snow self, and did not take kindly to the new details. Due to Lithuania's pleading and the fact that it was Christmas, the small kleptomaniac survived with some severe upside-down shaking that emptied his pockets. This then set all the nations he'd stolen from on him…

Meanwhile, swerving and swearing on the icy road, the UK were driving together to Russia in England's battered and flower-covered Mini Cooper. Scotland kept grabbing the steering wheel, insisting he knew of a shortcut; Ireland was strumming on his guitar, singing cheerfully about death; and Wales was seriously wondering if he would survive the whole trip.

"She stuck the penknife in the baby's heart, a' weile weile waile.  
>She stuck the penknife in the baby's heart, down by the river Saile..."<p>

"Aye, but you're _wrong_. Can ye no' admit it, just once, lad?"

"Angus, I am _not wrong_," England's voice was strained over the gruesome song. "You're bloody wrong! And you're going to make me crash!"

"Please stop, all of you…" Wales murmured from the back seat, edging further and further from Ireland and his instrument. Unfortunately, a sharp turn forced him into his folk-musical brother, who didn't stop singing.

"They put a rope around her neck, a' weile weile waile.  
>They put a rope around her neck, down by the river Saile…"<p>

Germany was giving his closer allies a lift, and seriously regretting it. He now had Austria's piano tied to the roof of his chunky motor, and two Italies listing all of the good things and bad things about him.

"He is very nice to me, Romano! He lets me eat pasta all the time!"

"Potato bastard just wants to get you fat, fratello!"

Added to this, he was worried about Prussia and what kind of state he'd be in…

"My pianoforte is getting _soaked,_ _Deutchland_!" Roderich whined, but nobody cared. Japan was sat apologetically between the two nations, eyes closed and wishing he was elsewhere.

Sweden's car (which still smelt of damp reindeer) was silent, following an argument between Norway and Denmark that had started with why the latter shouldn't be drink-driving and ended with the fateful: "AND THAT'S WHY WE ALL RAN AWAY FROM YOU!" The tension was so oppressive Iceland opened the window to let some air in. Finland, exhausted from his night delivering, had fallen asleep on Sweden, but the snow hit his face and woke him up. This caused Sweden to give Iceland a death glare, and begin the whole sorry fight again.

On the other hand, the African nations were pretty cheerful. There were so many of them Kenya had hired a hippie minibus to bring them all. There was the usual amount of yelling and fighting, but nothing that made her want to tear her hair out – to be honest, she was still in a buzz over her newfound independence. Most of these countries were wearing very thick coats and four or five layers, afraid of being freezing cold in Europe.

Canada woke up in the boot of America's car: he could hear his brother's enthusiastic chattering from the front seat. Shouting or screaming for help was useless, and clutching Kumajirou close, he resigned himself for spending the ride like this. Although he did resolve to set Cuba or Prussia on Alfred later. Possibly. If he got mad enough.

In groups or alone, one by one the nations arrived at Russia's mansion. Liechtenstein and Switzerland – who riddled Slusha with bullet holes; Spain and Greece, who weren't exactly sure where they were or why; Belgium, flouncing; Turkey, who made most of the Eastern nations run and hide…

The musical nations started singing and dancing, and the others turned up the radio in order to drown them out. Chairs – and boxes – were filled. Brothers, sisters and friends were reunited. Heaving with people, shouts and laughter, the USSR mansion was full to the brim…

"Chaps! I brought Christmas crackers!"

**(Flashback to Chapter Two there…) For what is basically a filler chapter, this took a ridiculous amount of time to write. And I mean ridiculous. I'm actually writing this before I've finished, because I have no idea of what to put next. So many countries…**

**~Esty sobers up crazy quickly, so I invented a new headcanon **

**~I love Bulgaria's work song! I started singing it to my own tune, and everyone in my house thinks I'm even madder.**

**~Ah, 1960's hippie era!**

**~Ireland's song is genuine, and the kind of thing my relatives sing when we get together (except not me, because I am probably the only unmusical one in the family). IT'S A NURSERY RHYME. AS IN, FOR SMALL CHILDREN. Also, the tune is pretty happy. You can Google **_**Weile Waile **_** for the rest of the words… he is completely based on one of my cousins.**

**~Juan – My name for Cuba, if I haven't already said so.**

**~Angus - My name for Scotland**

**~I imagine Wales being a bit like Canada, only can get into incredibly scary rages if he loses it…**

**~Also Hamid (Kyrgyzstan) the kleptomaniac is behind it all! I feel a bit sorry for him though…**

**And I've just about fulfilled my promise of getting this published by today! By two minutes! Although it's not exactly detailed. Sorry.**


End file.
